Dance with the Devil
by AFIS
Summary: A serial killer is setting his eyes on ballerinas, leaving Boston scared. Jane's obsession with finding the killer makes her lose focus on her struggling relationship with Maura, bringing them to a breaking point. Second installment of the Boston series.
1. A Killer Is Born

A/N - I couldn't stay away...here's another ff featuring everyone's favorite couple. This story takes place directly after BisB so I'd strongly suggest reading that one if you haven't already. Have fun reading.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jane Rizzoli or Maura Isles. No money is made off of this fanfiction, no matter how much love I put in it. Don't sue me TNT, my embarrassingly empty bank account is not worth the effort.

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_The ceiling tilted precariously with each heaving breath of the young woman as her eyes struggled to open. Reddened eyes met her prison for the first time; if she wasn't tied down by nylon restraints to her captor's bedframe, she would have even have gone so far to characterize the large loft space as normal. How long had she been here, the girl wondered before attempting for, what felt like, the fiftieth time since passing out previously to regain control of her limbs. Fear raced through her as the realization that she was never going to free herself entered her mind. All of her responsibilities flashed in brilliant focus; Mother depended on her to support the family since she was the only one who had shown a talent with something profitable and her three younger sisters looked up to her as their very own prima ballerina, no matter how many times she told them otherwise. The family would most surely starve without her income to support._

_Clear trails of sadness trailed down the young woman's face before falling onto the tear soaked sheets. Her captor had never once moved from the foot of the bed, enraptured with the same hour long video of a young woman and man performing an elegant _pas de deux_ of Swan Lake. Every part of the lithe woman's body ached to release the scream that had been bubbling in her throat since her capture but she resisted, knowing nothing would come of it except a quicker death, but as her body continued to ooze slow trails of blood from wounds that would never have a chance to heal, all she wished for was a release from the endless pain. The elegance she had prided herself on ever since her first class in the ballet was gone, her tongue fumbled upon itself in an effort to understand why this was happening to someone like her, someone with potential to be so great at her craft._

_ "Why," she managed to whisper pleadingly. "Why…are you doing…this…to me?"_

_ The video suddenly stopped for the first time, plunging the claustrophobic room into complete darkness. The fear that had been building was now eradicated upon the feel of her captor's shuddering hands on the endless length of her long legs. Death awaited her; it was only a matter of time, now._

_ "I can't start the show without a sleeping beauty can I, little sister?" His question, left unanswered, as the syringe injected itself into its victim. With the young woman asleep, he could now begin his final production. The slap of rubber gloves echoed through the room as the man began his work._

!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!

Monday, 11:35 A.M.

_This sucks_, Jane Rizzoli thought as her hands clenched awkwardly at her sides while staring even more awkwardly away from Maura Isles' eager hazel eyes. Stupidly, Jane had agreed to accompany Maura, her best friend and now girlfriend, on an impromptu lunch date at the Dirty Robber. After their relationship had kindled over her bullet injury several months ago, they had slowly grown accustomed to the changing definition of their friendship. Maura had taken to being in a relationship surprisingly well and, in no time at all, she had begun using pet-names when they were alone. Each time Maura's lips uttered seemingly benign statements such as, "Honey, could you walk Jo Friday before you go in to work? Dogs that learn to hold their bowel movements tend to have a two percent chance of increased anxiety," or "Remember to wear your charcoal colored slacks tomorrow, sweetheart, because I spilt something on your brown ones," Jane's heart stopped in confusion, her mind working overtime to determine who exactly Maura was referring to. It wasn't as if Jane didn't like being called by the pet-names that Maura had given her, but it just felt…odd, to say the least.

Much to Maura's increasing chagrin, the brunette had yet to make the decision to tell her coworkers and family about their relationship together. In the first month of their budding relationship, Jane had continuously made excuses to not disclose what had become plainly obvious to anyone with a little bit of common sense with the reasoning that it was "still too soon." Now, with their third month together rapidly approaching, that reasoning was becoming harder and harder to use. _Maura may be naïve, but she isn't stupid. Even she can put two and two together, and when she does…I'm going to end up feeling like a total ass for making her cry…again._

An exhausted sigh came from Jane's throat as her mind began drifting from the endless expectation of Maura's eyes and back to the safety of work. Interrogating suspects, questioning perps, dealing with the politics of the brass, and getting results with miniscule leads were all normal behavior to the detective; however, understanding the complexities of romances with her best friend were completely unknown. _Why can't things just stay the way they are? We're happy, aren't we? We have a healthy working relationship, sometimes she stays over at my place and sometimes I stay over at her place, I have several of my work suits in her closet and I'm always tripping over her ever-increasing collection of neon colored Louboutins. _

"Isn't that enough?" she asked herself in a whisper.

"Is what not enough, Jane? Do you want something more to drink?" Maura responded to the mentally unfocused brunette.

Jane froze before her brain woke up from its reverie. Her head shook before she noticed that Maura had left most of her food untouched on the plate. "You aren't eating."

"It's kind of hard to eat when my date is too busy spending quality time with her thoughts than with me." Maura said with a twinge of sarcasm before lowering her voice slightly. "We didn't have to have lunch together if you have other things going on, Jane. I'd rather have you call than have to endure watching you…disconnect yourself from me, again."

Jane's eyes looked up before her mind had a chance to process Maura's words. The hurt was evident, but her word choice was what mostly caught her attention. Coming from anyone else's mouth, the brunette would have felt nothing more than a mild irritation but from Maura, the word "disconnect" sounded similar to a curse. It cut through her heart with a level of destruction that scared her simply because no one had ever made her feel such pain before. Jane searched her hurt lover for some kind of apology that usually preceded these kinds of brief quarrels that they had been having recently, finding nothing except reflected pain and frustration. Typically, she responded in anger toward her girlfriend's words.

"Are we really fighting again?" The brunette spat out in a rising whisper. "Lately, that's all we ever do. I say something that hurts your feelings, you make a big fuss, and we fight, and then fall into bed with each other. When's the last time we talked? Like a conversation with input and response to that input."

Maura looked up briefly from playing with the lettuce on her plate, vitriol seeping from her pores. "It's kind of hard to have a conversation with someone when that person is too busy dreaming up new ways to badger people without violating their Fifth Amendment rights. Have you ever considered that the reason we've been fighting lately is because you don't want to talk to me? I know you, Jane. You use anger to hide what's really bothering you, that or work."

_She always sees right through me, like I'm not even trying to hide my feelings._ The sudden sensation of the caress of a hand Jane knew far too well traced her pant covered knee underneath the table, but even this simple act made her shiver in equal parts arousal and revulsion. In the last month, the anxiety she felt toward being with Maura had manifested itself into a clear disdain for any sort of public displays of affection. It was too much; going from friendship to relationship, kind smiles to intimate caresses, and having sleep-overs on top of the covers to underneath the covers was just too much, too soon for Jane to process. Just the idea of potentially allowing their private lives to become public fodder at the BPD rumor mill gave her the heebie-jeebies. The last thing Jane needed or wanted was Korsak and Frost having fireside chats about her intimacy issues with Maura. _Eugh, just the idea of Korsak sitting in my house with a vest and no shoes while Frost gives advice on our sex life is just physically debilitating._

The blonde snapped her fingers loudly in Jane's face, causing her to jump up in surprise. "You're doing it again. Zoning in about work…you're gorgeous, Jane, but I do have limits in what I can take. Maybe we should just call this date an official failure and try again next week."

"Zoning in…you mean, zoning out? Yes, you probably meant to say that. I see you haven't been studying the idiom book I bought you last month." She mused with a slight smile, realizing her wittiness wouldn't change the mood. "But don't go…I'm sorry, I just…it's really hard for me to be open with my feelings. Let's try this again, alright? Hi, Maura, what's going on with you?"

The blonde's slight smile accompanied her barely noticeable eye roll as she resettled herself back in the cushioned seat. However, all efforts to start over were forgotten as Jane and Maura's phones went off at the same time, giving each other annoyed looks.

"Rizzoli."

"Isles."


	2. Spark In The Dark

Monday, 1:15 P.M.

After a quick stop at Jane's apartment to change, they arrived at the crime scene, a warehouse near Boston's South End. As the amount of patrol officers began to dwindle in number, the detectives on call could be seen searching for evidence while directing the crime scene technicians toward scraps of anything that seemed out of the ordinary. The hustle and bustle of the crime scene flooded Jane's veins, excitement obvious before she even removed herself from the seatbelt that Maura insisted on her wearing, no matter how short the trip was. Confidence took the place of uncertainty in Jane's mind and she welcomed it as a needed distraction. Her police mask firmly in place, she prepared herself mentally for another day of keeping the streets safe from crime.

Before Jane could exit the car, however, Maura grabbed her arm as she turned off the ignition of her ruby-red Aston Martin DB9. "I feel like I should say something to you."

She returned Maura's statement with a quizzical look, struggling to understand her friend's statement. "Can't it wait?"

"No," the blonde's voice trembled with restrained emotion. "It can't wait. I think I want you to know that I…well…I want you to be careful."

"I'm always careful," Jane stated non-committedly, her eyes continuously roaming the crime scene from inside the leather interior of the Aston.

"No, you don't understand. It's just so hard for me to say this…to get my mind in order to properly convey my ideas, but I really need you to understand…how much I care for you and your safety."

Maura's rambling was interrupted by a loud rapping from outside as Sergeant Korsak knocked on the glass, getting the two women's attention. Detective Frost stood near the Aston, trying to appear busy while ogling the blonde's expensive car like a piece of meat. The moment broken, the blonde reluctantly let go of the last connection she had with Jane before resuming their work roles as separate entities, their relationship forgotten. Maura had hardly locked the door of the car when she noticed that Jane was already gone, without as much as a glance or farewell. Talking to Jane about her feelings was next to impossible especially when she got into her work. Maura's emotional desires and needs didn't seem to affect Jane and that hurt her more than she could ever know. She knew that the right thing for their relationship would be to talk like civilized adults, but knowing what the right thing was and doing it were two drastically different concepts. _Being with Jane is just like how it is with my mother. I can't bear to inconvenience her by asking for more. _Fighting was the only way for them to open up to each other and it clearly wasn't working. If anything, it was making the two women even more miserable, and it killed Maura to see her girlfriend miserable. But these were thoughts for another time.

Her tools in hand, the medical examiner readied herself for another victim, her mind still travelling back to Jane. Providing victims with a voice to speak was exhausting work but it wasn't nearly as exhausting as dealing with Jane's…Janeisms on a daily basis. Being with the serious detective gave her a mental workout on the same level as Organic Chemistry back in college except for the lack of accolades received after finally figuring out a particular concept. _Well, I wouldn't say there is a lack of accolades…Jane's surprisingly romantic when she's not at work or when it's just the two of us. Just last night, I could barely believe that she was so tender and loving. The way she held me tight against her chest, unwrapped me, released me, wiped away my tears…it was perfection on the same level as a substance high._

And there inherently was the problem that had no proper solution. Maura found herself at times so starved for the affection that Jane provided that she was willing to accept the pain of fighting with her best friend in the hope that something would change. Giving up on Jane was not an option.

"Maura, you okay?" Frost asked in a near whisper, stopping her before she reached the crime scene tape blocking the entrance to the warehouse. "It's pretty nasty in there. Just picturing that woman's body…makes me sick. If you aren't up to it, we can always get another M.E. to release."

Maura's eyes appraised the young African-American detective's anxious body with a small smile. "I thought we worked on that, Detective? You're still having trouble dealing with crime scenes?"

"No, well…no," Frost sighed before attempting to resume. "She's been mutilated in the worst kind of way. Her heart is clearly been taken out her chest, not to mention the creepy message written on the wall in, presumably, blood next to the body. The whole thing just screams serial to me. Korsak is still trying to write it off as just a sadistic one-off."

"I'll be fine, Frost. I've seen my share of wrongness applied to the human body in my years as a medical examiner," Maura replied with a friendly smile, walking toward the back of the warehouse where the body was found. Each step she took into the dark cavern lit only by small random slats of sunlight made the blonde increasingly nervous. The lights seemed to beckon her toward the body as the space within the warehouse seemed to progressively shrink inward upon itself like a maze. Maura told herself that it was nothing more than an illusion as a direct result of the perception of light in the space, but logic did little to assuage the anxiety running through her. _Something just doesn't feel right about this. I've been to my fair share of crime scenes featuring anything from ritual killings to suicide but this easily takes the…what does Jane say, 'the crown?' Is that it? Something with a "c"…_

The medical examiner's heels struck the cement, dust clogging the heavy air. Time seemed to stand still as she trudged endlessly through the never-ending space. A familiar voice called out to her and she gratefully walked toward it.

"Korsak," Maura's eyes had barely acclimated to the dark before they searched for Jane's familiar brown curls. "Thank god, I kept getting-"

Jane interrupted from her position at the foot of the naked body posed on the floor. "Disoriented? Same here. If it wasn't for Korsak playing traffic cop and giving me a shout, I would have been lost. What's with this place anyway? It's like some kind of a chapel to the patron saint of asylums."

"Actually, there is no patron saint in the Catholic faith that pertains to asylums, Jane. St. Dymphna is the closest possible interpretation. She is attributed to mental illnesses and neurological disorders. According to oral traditions, Dymphna was a young woman who was beheaded by her father because she refused to replace her mother in his bed." Maura recited, her eyes analyzing each element of the crime scene, quickly and efficiently. Korsak appeared enthralled with Maura's unusual analysis while Jane comically groaned, turning her eyes to look over at the blonde.

"And the relevance of that to this crime scene is?" Jane asked, ignoring Maura's blush.

"Whoever chose this space is highly intelligent, Jane. He or she clearly took the time to plan every aspect of this murder and probably feels little remorse for his actions," the medical examiner's eyes travelled toward the body posed on the floor and released a sigh of pity for the sight in front of her. Frost was not exaggerating. The young woman's pale body was scarred with several open wounds. In particular, her heart had been crudely but efficiently removed, leaving nothing more than a hole of empty decaying flesh. Brown trails of blood that had ceased to flow at least several hours ago covered the skin, marring her beauty with gaping wounds that had little chance to heal. Her lean musculature pointed toward an involvement in some kind of intense athletic activity for some time; however, what grabbed Maura's attention the strongest was her facial features. Shocking red hair with platinum blonde roots covered the youthful woman's unmarked face; her eyes concealed behind a velvet blindfold. _Her hair has been dyed, it appears to be a rush job. Why cover her eyes though? Did she resist her attacker?_ Maura quickly appraised the victim's hands for any sign of struggle and saw the contusions around her wrists, knees, and ankles. _So she was bound…_ Maura answered the questions that logically asserted themselves in her head, causing even more questions to assert themselves. _There's only so much I can do without the tools of my lab._

"You've got something I can run with?" Jane asked simply. Upon seeing the medical examiner's troubled features, her hands trembled with the urge to provide comfort; reluctantly, Jane willed the mask back into place, focusing on the grisly scene in front of her.

"Of course," she said, running her hand through her hair. "This is all based off of preliminary diagnosis, but I can definitively say that your Jane Doe was bound to restrict her movement. In conjunction with the contusions on her wrists and lower extremities, there is some slight petechial hemorrhaging on her face. Until I get her in the lab I can't give you a definitive answer as to what caused it. If you look at her hair, you'll notice it has been dyed with little attention to detail, given the blonde roots."

"Anything else?" Jane asked with little patience.

Maura moved toward the feet of Jane Doe and noticed the slight deformity of the feet along with the calluses near the toes. "She practiced _en pointe_ work."

"For how long?"

"Assumptions are hardly productive to proper scientific inquiry, Jane." Maura said just as Jane's hand lifted toward her arm, barely touching the blonde. "But…I guess my own personal experience with _en pointe_ work can suffice as sufficient evidence. I'd say about 10 to 12 years given the degree of the deformity of her feet. Because of the lack of an extreme arch in her foot, her feet were given time to ossify properly before intensive work was started but just barely. With that timeline, she'd be about…21 or 22 give or take a year with a margin of error."

Jane stood up from the body and paced a few steps before turning to look back at Maura. "So…we have a ballerina in her prime who was bound and dyed her hair, presumably unwillingly. That's not a lot, Maura."

"I'm sorry," she whispered just loud enough for Jane to hear. "It's the best that I can do until I get her in autopsy."

"I know, I know." The frustrated brunette kicked the scuffed dust floor as she pointed toward the wall closest to the victim while looking Korsak over. "Does that clear whatever that is up for you, Korsak? 'Cause it didn't do anything for me."

Maura looked up and followed Jane's finger toward a message written in blood on the one wall not covered in an illusion. Most of the crime scene techs were busy trying to photograph and process the message for future reference. Motioning to one of her assistants to allow the coroner to take the body back to her lab, she stood up to see the message in a better perspective.

The height of the letters along with the neatness of the manuscript suggested a level of planning that was already plainly obvious from the illusions covering the crime scene. The words were haunting as they seemed to pulse in attention with the blood red contrasting against the relative darkness of the warehouse.** The Beauty slumbers peacefully awaiting the kiss that will set her free amongst the Sin.**

Maura's mind struggled to interpret the unusual statement that her eyes were processing in the dim light. "This isn't good, is it?"

"No, it isn't," Korsak frowned, joining Maura as she sat in awe of the message before her.

"Whoever this guy," Jane said before Maura's disapproving look stopped her, "sorry, person is he knows we're stuck until he decides to throw us another victim. We've got nothing but the damn scraps he's choosing to leave us. Now all we can do it wait. Wait until someone else dies before we can get something to run with."

Turning on her heels, Jane left the crime scene while Maura and Korsak looked at each other with understanding looks. _When Jane's on a case, the whole world ceases to function. Nothing else matters except finding a lead and pursuing it…I hope she doesn't run herself ragged. I don't think I can handle watching her unravel again._


	3. Love Is Not Enough

Monday, 6:45 P.M.

Her awful date with her girlfriend forgotten, Jane had reluctantly left the crime scene to the remaining techies while following Maura in the coroner's van with her Aston. Each mile of stressful rush-hour Boston traffic dissipated with the simplicity and elegance of the leather lined interior of the expensive sports-car. For the first time since everything that had happened several months ago, Jane welcomed the silence.

_Maura and me…we haven't always been like this, _Jane wondered as she took in the faded vividness of the Boston sunset with unseeing eyes. They had been and still did have good moments of pure bliss but the constant bickering along with the underlying tension of Jane's inability to talk to Maura was creating an obvious strain. It was becoming harder and harder to maintain a sufficient barrier between their work and private relationship. Even now as the orange sky reluctantly gave way to the crimson hues of late evening, Jane's mind was awash with details that her face struggled to repress.

*!*Flashback*!*

_ Slivers of moonlight flickered across the two intertwined women, exhaustion having finally taken the place of passion. Locks of brown met with blonde upon the stained sheets and, after briefly tussling for dominance, they had declared a pleasant truce. Silence spread through the blonde's darkened bedroom. _

_ "Why don't you talk to me?" Maura said as exhaustion of a different kind became stronger in the privacy of their bed. A growl worked its way up her throat before Jane could restrain it as Maura's illuminated hands mapped out the smooth rise and fall of her still erect nipples, glistening with the remains of their previous actions. Jane's breathing was coming in shuddered gasps, her body again rising to the challenge that her girlfriend clearly wanted to impose. _

_ A breeze shivered through the blinds before Maura's hands reached the seizing expanse of rippling muscle and taut skin. "I hate…talking. More…god, just more of this, please."_

_ "Tell me," Maura pleaded softly as she continued to move further toward her goal. "Tell me why. Why don't you talk to me?"_

_ Despite her lack of rest, Jane knew she would not be getting any sleep for a while longer. The brunette thought her stamina was legendary but Maura was proving to be insatiable. Impossibly long fingers probed the depths of Jane's existence with a level of skill that marveled the detective; each rapid caress of Maura's tongue on her clitoris combined with the changing rhythms of her investigation concerning Jane's clenching sex taking her farther up the hill. _

_ "Please," Jane pleaded desperately as need quickly replaced pride._

_ The blonde stopped her task briefly. "Tell me, Jane."_

_ The answering scream echoed throughout the room before Jane could process that she had released it. "Because…I'm scared, Maura. Scared of all of this, with you and me. Being with you scares the hell out of me. Are you happy now?"_

*!*End Flashback*!*

After that conversation, everything had changed between them for the worse. Right after Jane had confessed to Maura she had immediately gotten up from the bed, dressed in silence, and went for a run…for about; oh, I don't know, _three hours_. She knew that her best friend loved running in a way that Jane never could or would in this lifetime but even she was worried after the first hour. When she did finally show up…Jane could still remember the conversation vividly in her mind. She gripped the Aston's steering wheel impulsively with the same frustration that had overcome her control that night.

*!*Flashback*!*

_With a jolt, Jane's crumpled frame jolted upright from her awkward position on Maura's comfortable couch. The blonde's face fell as soon as the brunette's impossibly tangled locks cleared in her vision and she strolled by the detective as if she wasn't even there. _

_ Excitement taking over her best judgment, Jane vaulted over the couch and grabbed her girlfriend's hand before she could walk away. "What the hell were you thinking? Who goes out running in the middle of the night? Rapists, Maura. Rapists and serial killers. I know you sometimes forget that the world isn't all Happy-Green-Acres, but I need you to try a little harder using that big brain of yours for common-sense. You could have gotten hurt." Jane exclaimed before her voice trailed off in a whisper. "I could have lost you."_

_ "I know."_

_ "Is that all you have to say?" Jane asked furiously, her hand ripping through the tangled mess of her long brunette locks. "What's going on with you? You've always been odd but this is beyond your usual. I said I was sorry for saying what I did. I…I didn't know what I was saying, Maura. You're a big girl, Maura, so why the fuck are you making childish decisions like going for a run in the middle of the night without even taking your phone?"_

_ The blonde's eyes remained glued to the floor. "Because…"_

_ "So we've gone from two word answers to one word answers…we're really getting to the heart of the matter aren't we?" Jane's voice dripped with sarcasm, but as Maura's face lifted toward her to reveal the tears that had flowed from red veined eyes, sadness soon took its place._

_ "I wanted to know what it felt like…to be scared of something you love with every fiber of your being." The tears that had stopped flowing had now resumed again as the shocked detective felt even more depressed for making Maura cry._

_ "Honey," Jane muttered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."_

_ The detective moved Maura into her arms, releasing the tension of the night. Each muffled wail from the distraught blonde in Jane's arms made the frustration she felt even more poignant. But, despite her efforts to stay focused, the slight aroma of sex still hung in the air around the two of them, reminding her of what they were doing together. _

_ The moment of reassurance was quickly broken as the one factor that the two lovers had forgotten about popped up at just the wrong time, Angela Rizzoli._

_ "Janey, what's going on? Is Maura alright?" Angela asked innocently. _

_ Maura quickly separated from Jane's embrace, smiling briefly toward Jane's mother before running back to her bedroom. "Ma'…come on! This isn't your house! You can't just go traipsing around in the middle of the night like Boston's very own Batman. Shouldn't you be sleeping?"_

_ "I saw the lights and I heard you _trying_ to whisper so I assumed something was wrong," Angela walked toward Jane and looked quizzically in the direction of Maura's bedroom, "and looks like I was right. Is Bass okay or is it something else?"_

_ Jane sighed, knowing she would end up sleeping on the couch now that her mom was up and alert. There would be no way she could sneak into her girlfriend's room without causing her mother to start asking unnecessary questions that Jane didn't particularly feel ready to answer. It killed her to know that Maura was alone when she needed her the most to comfort and assuage the doubts and fears running through her mind but there was nothing she could do, except wait and hope that Angela went back to bed fairly quickly._

_ "Come on." Jane said with one last hopeful look toward Maura's door. "Let's go make some coffee."_

*!*End Flashback*!*

Typical of her mother, she had refused to go back to bed, chatting Jane up until the bright colors of day hit the windows of Maura's home. By the time she had managed to slip away, Maura was sleeping soundly and Jane could hardly find the will to wake her. With everything that had happened that night, she deserved some peace even if it was just in her own mind but far too much was still left unsaid from the both of them. They had woke up at different times and Jane couldn't even stay for lunch because she had to check up on Jo Friday and attempt to wash the stack of clothes that had been accumulating. _I wanted to talk to her, really I did, but there never seems to be any time or, more importantly, the right time never seems to present itself,_ Jane wondered as her mind went back to the small spat that they had had at lunch earlier. That certainly wasn't the right time, she mused as the hum of the engine eased the detective into a further state of relaxation. _At least she's trying to make an effort to get me to talk, unlike me. All I ever do is run away or deflect from the issue by using anger or work to disconnect myself her and us. She doesn't deserve that. God, what's wrong with me?_

Jane's head sunk toward the steering wheel, the sudden wave of self-grief shocking her into submission. Never had the detective felt such an unbelievable sense of anxious indecision. She was completely at a loss with how to handle this situation properly and not being able to find a proper solution that would bring the desired results was problematic. But, the congested traffic subsided, movement increased, and Jane forced her focus to return back to the task at hand. Catching a potential serial before he could kill again was far more relevant, despite her heart telling her otherwise. With a slight press against the acceleration pedal of the Aston, Jane powered through the now clear streets behind the coroner's van. A hum of approval rose in a rising crescendo from the finely tuned engine and even more memories took hold, despite Jane's best efforts to ignore them.

*!*Flashback*!*

_"You're going way too fast, Jane," Maura screamed, clutching the seatbelt. "I said you could drive the Aston, not race it through the streets like some kind of…street racer."_

_ "Wow, I'm reeling with that comeback." Jane said exaggeratedly while skillfully maneuvered the sports car through a corner, braking slightly but quickly resuming speed upon exiting the corner. "Come on, you have an Aston Martin DB9. The top speed is nearly 200 miles per hour and you rarely take it over 75. This baby wants-no, needs me-to drive it fast to release all of the 500 horses that you refuse to use. This is a favor to you, honey. And, don't worry, I'm a detective. What's the highway patrol going to do, pull me over?"_

_ "The top speed is closer to 190."Maura's stated simply, her mind processing the information at lightning speeds. "But I guess if I used slicker tires for increased traction it could increase the top speed to 200…hmm, maybe I should take it to a race track to prove my hypothesis?"_

_ "I can drive you there?" Jane asked excitedly, turning toward Maura with a smile._

_ "No," the blonde rolled her eyes as the environment blurred with the increasing speed that Jane was managing to coax from the willing machine. "I have no intention to extend this experience any longer."_

_ "Come on. You know you love it when I go fast." Jane teased suggestively, honking from annoyed drivers barely noticeable in the noise insulated interior of the Aston. "You didn't seem to complain last night too much. You seemed to like it quite a lot, actually."_

_ A blush of embarrassment rose to Maura's cheeks as she quickly turned away from the preoccupied detective. "What we do in the bedroom has no bearing on our current actions. You're just trying to provoke me."_

_ A laugh of genuine happiness came from Jane's mouth. "Is it working?"_

_ "Yes," Maura smiled, turning her head back toward her pleased lover._

_ "Good," Jane stopped briefly to shift to a higher gear for even more speed. "I love seeing you get a little crazy for me."_

*!*End Flashback*!*

Knocking coming from the driver's side window stole Jane away from the pleasant reverie of happier times. Impressively, she had managed to drive to BPD with only half of her brain focused on driving and the other half on vacation thinking about Maura Isles. _God, what if I had hurt someone?_ Sweeping the thought aside, the harried brunette spent a millisecond resuming her identity as detective and downed to window to meet Frost's confused face. His eagerness toward seeing Maura's car up close was obvious as he subconsciously bounced on the balls of his feet.

"Korsak has already gone inside to put our Jane Doe's fingerprints in the system to see if a name pops out in a database somewhere." Frost said, looking up briefly as if remembering something of importance. "Maura went inside with the body. She told me that she'll call once the autopsy is complete. Most of the CSU techs have started preliminary analysis of the evidence from the scene and should have it back within a couple of hours at the most, but you know how those lab guys go. They spend so much time holed up in their mass-spectrometers that they've forgotten the rules of society. A couple of hours to them could mean a couple of days to us."

Normally, Jane would have ripped Frost a new one for talking negatively about the techies that had sometimes, more often than not, opened cases wide open for the unit, but she knew there was truth behind his words. The crime scene techies were notoriously notable for being just like the head medical examiner; methodical, slow, and precise which was great to brag about at conferences but not so great in solving cases in a timely manner. More times than she was willing to say, Jane had to light a fire underneath Maura's and the techies' asses to get them to work with a little bit more urgency. She hoped it wouldn't come to that, again.

"Let's try to think positive, alright? Korsak has the right idea. Let's work with what we have and concentrate getting all we can out of it. If our Jane Doe is in the system, it'll make things that much easier." Jane said, hands running through her loose curls anxiously.

Frost nodded approvingly but his gaze remained glued to the beautifully curved lines of Maura's car. Following his eyes, she quickly raised the window and exited the car after taking the keys from the ignition. _Damn Frost, you're practically drooling over a piece of metal._ "Do you want me to introduce you two? I was chatting her up and I think she's really into you," sarcasm obvious in the amused detective's voice.

"You're so funny." He muttered sarcastically, closing the door gingerly behind Jane. "Why does Maura let you drive her car, anyway? I'm close to her and she's never even offered me a ride home but you get to drive it…by yourself, nonetheless. Is there something you'd like to confess, Jane?"

The brunette's body tensed slightly as they began to climb the stairs to the elevator that would take them up to their desks at BPD. Frost's question surprised her not because he asked it, but because it surprised her in the first place. Even though she and Maura had started dating after everything that had happened several months ago, hardly anyone had put the two of them together intimately yet. _Had someone asked Maura about us? I've been trying to teach her how to, at the very least, bluff but that hasn't been going very well…oh no, she's probably spilled her guts to Korsak, the father figure of the homicide unit._

In response to her anxiety, Frost extended his hand toward Jane's shoulder in an attempt to comfort his partner. "Hey, you okay? What's got you so riled up?"

"Nothing," she croaked, shying away from his touch. "Let's just spend our time trying to catch this guy before he escalates into something worse or decides to skip town. Hopefully Korsak or Maura have got something for us to pound the pavement with."


	4. Alina Bobrova Is My Name

Monday, 10:45 P.M.

The normally busy atmosphere of the homicide unit was even busier as Jane, Korsak, and Frost focused their attentions on gaining a lead with the scan amount of evidence they currently had to work with. All they had so far was a Jane Doe that danced professionally with her heart ripped out and a message written over her body in blood. She had worked with less on several cases before this but never had Jane had to deal with the possibility of finding a serial with so little to go on. As her hands typed quickly across the keyboard, Jane knew that there was nothing she could do except wait.

After several minutes of waiting, Korsak came from the operations room with an excited look on his face. "Got something."

Jane and Frost got up before Korsak could even finish and ran toward operations. Jane Doe and her identification were displayed upon the wall monitors. "Nice, you found the Doe's records. What have we got?"

The images on the computer zoomed in, focusing on the pictures that had been placed in the dead woman's database file. _She was a beautiful young woman, alright._ Jane could just imagine the media circus that a serial killer targeting beautiful women would create in a large metropolitan city like Boston. It would be chaos, pure and simple. _And when the shit hits the fan, guess who's going to be left cleaning it up?_

"The victim's name was Alina Bobrova, imported from Russia for Boston Ballet. Her identification card and passport states she arrived several months ago from the Mariinski Ballet Company in order to widen her repertoire, whatever that means. The woman was apparently big stuff in her home country given the fact that she had an official passport. Unless you're some kind of governmental bigwig, it's pretty rare for normal citizens of any country to get that kind of clearance." Korsak clicked through several pictures, stopping at a large image showing Bobrova dancing back in Russia. "We all realize the potential repercussions of this girl's death, right? As an isolated incident, a murder of a Russian girl on loan in US soil is, at the least, a PR nightmare for BPD, but if we take into account that this probably isn't going to be an isolated incident…we'll probably lose our jobs as the department tries to save face if we don't catch the serial before he escalates."

Jane leaned forward in her chair, tension making her fingers tingle like they were asleep. "This is going to be a mess. Is there any way we can keep the brass out of this? At least until we find a lead that we can run without the feds up our asses, rushing us and what not."

"Jane, I'm a sergeant, not a miracle worker. As soon as the captain catches wind that this is a potential serial, he's going to get involved whether you like or not." Korsak stated. "Let's just run this case like we normally do and deal with the politics when they come."

She knew that he was right, but it hardly made things easier to accept. Having the feds snooping around her case, no matter what their intentions were, was just a preliminary to having the case taken from her command under some stupid reasoning that boiled down to the fact that she was a woman with no juice. Nothing irritated her more than having a case taken from her, especially a name-making case like this one. But there was nothing she could do except hope that nothing happened that would get the governor involved. Shaking her head in a lame attempt to get the frustration out, she turned to Frost to hear his opinion.

"Frost," she sighed, returning her eyes back to Alina's picture displayed on the monitors. "Lay it out for me."

"Alina Bobrova was murdered by an unknown killer with high levels of intelligence. Her heart was found taken from her body but until we hear from Maura, that's hardly concrete but we do know for sure that she's dancing at the Boston Ballet on loan. It's as good a starting place as any." Frost said before a yawn signaled his growing exhaustion.

Before he could mask it, Korsak saw the detective's response and lifted his salt-and-pepper eyebrows in exaggerated shock. "What? Can't handle the pace, newbie?"

"I am not a newbie. I've been here for nearly a year now. It's just that I've been up for about 16 hours working that jewelry heist case." Frost looked pleadingly toward Jane for back-up, receiving nothing more than amused smile. "I'd really appreciate just a couple of hours of recharge."

"Not my call, Frost. I'm not a sergeant." she exaggerated, turning in her chair toward Korsak with a dirty look.

Seconds of uncomfortable silence spread through the room as Korsak tried, unsuccessfully, to ignore their pleading eyes. Jane knew the older detective would break eventually, and she was right.

"Fine," he said, throwing his hands up in annoyance. "Have a couple of hours off and come back in the morning. We'll head to Boston Ballet headquarters for questioning. Is that better for you?"

Frost enthusiastically nodded and Jane laughed before the vibration at her hip attracted her attention. She knew who it was even before looking, but that hardly changed the feeling of relief that overwhelmed Jane's emotions upon seeing her girlfriend's name displayed on the screen. _Maura…_

"You got something for me?" She asked, grabbing her coat and nodding her leave from the detectives. "Yeah, I'll be right down."


	5. Atropine and Autopsy

A/N - In this chapter, ballet terms are going to start to be used. I have little ballet experience so if any of the terms are misused, please, forgive me in advance. They are marked off by italics if in a normally formatted section or unitalicized if in an italic formatted section. This rule applies to all other chapters in the future as well. Also, because of some confusion, bolded words are messages from the killer or from other characters.

* * *

Tuesday, 2:30 A.M.

With a small whoosh of released elevator air, Jane walked toward the autopsy room where Maura worked, the adjacent rooms normally full of busy techies now silent with the late hour. Each of the echoing steps made by her heeled shoes reminded the brunette of the near death experience that had taken place in this building. Both of those harrowing moments had brought Jane closer to Maura but had also brought numerous problems to her relatively uncomplicated existence. Upon seeing Maura's barely restrained excitement reflected in her hazel eyes, Jane knew without a doubt that she wouldn't have taken those experiences back for anything.

"Even with blood and guts dripping from your hair, you still manage to look marvelous." Jane smiled at Maura's laughable attempts to see if she really had blood in her hair. "What have you got?"

"Don't even joke about that. I go through a lot of effort to make sure my hair doesn't get in the way of my autopsies, Jane. Did you know that I could lose my license for that sort of thing? It's considered 'indirect contamination' by the state. When I was doing my residency, can you believe one of doctors suggested that I should cut my hair? He said that it got in the way of caring for patients. I think he was just jealous of me because of his balding situation."

Jane rolled her eyes. "Honey, if anyone tells you to cut your hair because it gets in the way, I'll arrest them myself."

"And that's why I put up with you. Because you treat me like I'm only thing that matters, most of the time." Maura muttered, hardly noticing the slight tensing of Jane's hands against her side."I know what killed our Jane Doe. Do you care to guess?"

"No," the detective frowned, "I don't. Her name is Alina Bobrova, by the way."

"What a beautiful name. Her features are characteristic of Eastern European racial groups."

Turning behind her to the computer screen used to display x-rays or close up details of the bodies on the autopsy table, Maura touched the screen before entering in her password to display a visual of Alina's neck. "The killer used a pure extract from _Atropa belladonna_, a flower better known as Deadly Nightshade, because of its connection to the nightshade family of plants which includes such innocuous items such as potatoes, but, belladonna differs in its high level of toxicity."

Puzzled, Jane looked from the body and back to the image being displayed across the touchscreen monitor. "So why are we looking at her neck? Last time I checked, the mouth is attached to the face."

"If you just let me finish, I would have gotten to that." Maura touched a small injection mark on Alina's neck, zooming in on the site, revealing slight bruising near the area. "Specifically, I determined that the extract used was atropine, a beneficial drug if used in the right doses as a way to increase low heart rate for resuscitation but if the proper dosage is ignored, watch out. Because of the hallucinogenic properties, victims can literally go mad. Ms. Bobrova had nearly 35 mg of atropine in her system, enough to make a horse think it was a human."

"Damn…how long did it take for her to die?" Jane asked as her eyes looked pitifully over the victim's naked bruised form.

"Not long upon injection of the final dosage, but the killer could have kept her alive for longer if the doses were spread out over a period." Maura swiped the screen a second time, revealing a close up the victim's chest. "I suspect that soon after she was injected with the fatal overdose of atropine, the killer moved toward removing Ms. Bobrova's heart. In medical school, I hated cardiology with a passion. It's so hard to realize that a human is nothing more than an endless array of electric impulses and the surgery technique was brutal. You make a mistake on a dead body, it's not a problem. You make a mistake while performing a heart transplant, people will die, someone is going to have to make a horrible phone call…I don't even want to think about it."

Jane growled in warning, focusing Maura's rambling before it even began. "I can't tell you why the murderer took the girl's heart, Jane. I have several theories, but at this point, they are just theories. I can tell you that she wasn't sexually assaulted because of the lack of vaginal bruising and tearing that is common with non-consensual sex. Our victim also had a high blood-alcohol content that would have left her unable to stand or defend herself from her attacker. All of this adds up to that this murder was personal. I've sent several samples of unusual specimens found on the body to CSU for further testing. I should hear back soon."

"Well, when's soon?"

"I'd be guessing."

Jane's sigh filled the autopsy room, her mind racing with frustration. _The waiting game begins again_. Exhaustion sneaked up on the tired brunette and, despite Jane's best efforts to appear unaffected by the late hour, her head lowered heavily into her hands. Everything involving Maura and the case had taken more energy out of her than she had thought possible. Jane's body leaned against the metal autopsy table, eyes soon closing with little mental input on her part.

"You can stay at my place for a couple of hours?" Maura asked in a voice softened with a level of sensitivity that always managed to marvel Jane.

The brunette shook her head with miniscule effort. "No…I need to stay close. Korsak, Frost, and I are planning to hit the pavement bright and early to get some questioning done."

" I don't understand…why do you want to hit the pavement? Violence against inanimate objects is a reflection of an unhealthy inclination toward passive aggressive personality traits, according to a detailed study by the University of Padua in the early 80s. If you're frustrated, you could try jogging…" The blonde medical examiner suggested before realizing that Jane was using one of her many idioms. "Sorry. You could sleep in my office, if you want?"

"No," Jane replied, making her way toward one of the autopsy tables before taking her shoes off and jumping up on it like it was a bed. "I'll just sleep with her. Give Alina some company. Maybe she'll speak to me, tell me who her killer is."

Maura stared at her girlfriend in utter disbelief. Walking toward the lights, Maura turned back to face Jane's now prone body. "Sleep well, sweetheart."

"Love you, Maubie," she mumbled sleepily in response.

"Wait," Maura exclaimed as she flicked the lights off. "Did you just call me, Maubie? Like Moby Dick?"

But Jane was already fast asleep, the snores steadily increasing in volume. She was unable to respond to the blonde's amazed expression. _Tell me something. Tell me who did this to you, Alina. _

!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!

_Colors from every spectrum of the rainbow reflected against the white walls of the sparsely furnished loft apartment as a plasma television blared musical notes through the large space. Chopin's "Minute Waltz" combining with the elegant middle-aged man stretching on a _barre_ near the small dance area marked by the full length mirror and the wooden floor installed roughly ten feet around the wooden handrail. His legs were stretched in full extension, using the _barre_ as support for several minutes, focused on nothing more than the connection between the body and the classical music wrapping itself around the elegant man's lean musculature._

_Stepping away from the _barre_, he entered a quick execution of a _battement_, his active leg extending forward and backwards slowly before stepping into several rapid turns. Each turn was delivered _en pointe_ and effortless to the man who was clearly well-studied in the dance being performed. Effortless turns became light leaps, light leaps easily transforming into whimsical _pirouettes_; but, no matter the man's actions, each movement was clearly controlled with an obvious level of advanced skill and training. After twenty minutes of extended work to Chopin's repeating melody, the tensed muscles released themselves into a final slow extension of his arms above his head before bowing his head slightly in respect to the music._

_Grabbing the leg warmers and the sweater that were carefully folded on the minimalistic couch_ _near the television, he put them with careful precision before turning the music off. Despite the intensive work-out, the auburn haired man's blue eyes were bright with excitement and pleasure. _

"_I like the movements…could be a little difficult for some of the younger girls but it'll force them to stretch their skills and rise to a challenge. These Americans dance as if they expect their mommies and daddies to hold their hands throughout the entire performance. This level of embarrassment would hardly be tolerated in Russia. If you were here, Matryona, it would be so much easier," he muttered under his breath while his feet continued to tap out a private rhythm only known by him._

_An alarm binged from the speakers of the television, interrupting the lithe dancer's mental train of thought. "It is time to see how the critics have taken our first act."_

_With a small wave of his hands, the motion activated system on the television turned to the local news channel. The traditional sounds of the news program hit the man's ears, causing him to flinch slightly before turning down the volume. Nothing could take away from the excitement upon hearing the public's reactions to his _entrée _element of his performance. They would soon know her name…he would make sure of that. And once they knew her name…his final goal would present itself, bringing him ever closer to Matryona. Just two more sacrifices before Ekaterina was his for the taking. She would be honored to present herself to him for such a noble cause, a cause directly related to her actions against Matryona._

_Minutes passed and still no mention of his opening introduction. "They have ignored us, Matryona. We will have to go immediately into the _adagio_, won't we?"_

_A bead of sweat moved from his forehead to his unseeing darkened blue eyes. "I hate to rush, my beloved sister, but we have no choice. I will try to maintain the integrity of the performance…nothing will change that, you can be sure."_

!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!


	6. Making Small Strides

A/N - Hmm...just read some of the reviews. Well, looks like I've made some R&I fans unhappy, but hopefully not pissed off enough to stop reading. It gets better, trust me. Jane and Maura are just having some growing pains.

* * *

Tuesday, 9:25 A.M.

The smell of coffee and cappuccino wafted into Jane's lungs before her mind had fully even awakened from the mildly peaceful slumber of a night spent in the autopsy room. Alina Bobrova's body had long been stored in one of the freezers so there was no one to welcome her upon waking up. Getting up from the stainless steel bed, Jane debated the unusualness of sleeping in the same room with a dead body. If Maura was here, she would just claim that the oddness was correlated with the cultural standards mandated by the American society she was raised in but even her girlfriend's logical reasoning could take away the need to take a long shower with disinfectant and hot water. _Nothing is normal about sleeping with a victim, no matter how exhausted I might have been_.

But there was no time to continue her internal debate. Coffee beckoned from Maura's office and, slowly, the semi-exhausted brunette trudged toward Maura's door. "I smell coffee," she growled out just as the blonde medical examiner exited with two coffee cups from a local coffee-shop.

"Jane, I was just about to get you. Korsak's been calling. Apparently you're late because he says he's going to head out to the Boston Ballet without you." Maura said, handing a hot cup of black coffee to the brunette. "Is that where the victim danced? Hmm…not surprising. Boston Ballet has recently been increasing the quality of their repertoire. The Russian schools are particularly known for producing highly skilled dancers from both sexes. Do you need me to go with? My mother has been an influential sponsor of the company since its inception. I'll always remember when I danced the part of the Sugar Plum Fairy in their annual production of the Nutcracker. The critics said I was extremely memorable for being only sixteen."

The excitement in Maura's voice made Jane's eyebrows rise in amusement as the vision of her girlfriend jumping up and down in a tutu garnered a chuckle. "You were a ballerina?"

"Yes," the blonde said, walking back in her office. "Does that surprise you?"

"Not as much as the image of you wearing legwarmers, leotard, and a tutu." Jane teased, her laugh filling the lighted expanse of the lab after gulping down the comforting heat of the black coffee in her hand.

Maura rolled her eyes in annoyance. "Laugh all you want, Jane. But my wearing a tutu while performing an artistic style of expression enjoyed throughout the world as a display of beauty is not as embarrassing as you calling me Maubie."

"I never called you that."

"Yeah, you did. Remember, last night, before you proceeded to sleep with a dead body in the room even though you could have slept in my office, with me."

Jane moved into Maura's personal space, just as Maura did the same, neither wavering under the other's death stare. "Well…let's say I did call you that…what if you just forgot that I called you that?"

"I can't." Maura replied with mock pity. "I already wrote it in my journal, in ink. This is so cute, Jane. You call me Maubie and I call you-"

The brunette's face dropped and she immediately muffled Maura's mouth. "Stop, just stop. Do not call me that at work unless everyone at BPD suddenly dies of an outbreak of bubonic plague. I was tired and made a mistake. Let's just leave it at that, alright?"

"What are we leaving at that?" Frost asked, walking in with Korsak. The two detectives immediately slowed their pace upon seeing the two women squaring off in preparation for an argument. As frustrated as Jane was toward the pet-name slip, she knew that appearances had to be upheld over her own pride. _Frost is already starting to jokingly ask questions, all it takes is one incident to create suspicion._

Stepping away from the blonde, she turned back to them with a forced smile. "Maura is planning on spending a couple of weeks in one of her mother's summer homes in Switzerland and she wants me to watch her pet turtle until she gets back. Jo hates the turtle, I hate the turtle, so, therefore, no turtle-sitting. Ready to head out?"

"Tortoise, Jane. Bass is a tortoise. How come you always forget that?"

Ignoring Maura's comment, Korsak looked disapprovingly at his ex-partner's bedhead tangled curls and slept in clothes from yesterday with a frown. "Are you ready?"

"Come on, Korsak. What's the first thing they teach in the academy? Always be prepared. I always keep a spare pair of clothes, toothbrush, and a comb just in case. With morning traffic, I'll have plenty of time to become presentable in the car."

The three detectives walked out, leaving Maura alone. Before she could walk back to her desk, Jane came rushing back with a look of embarrassment on her face.

"Call me when you get the lab results. And…um, I'll…uh…I'll miss you," the harried brunette whispered before looking over her shoulder and, finding no one present, hugged Maura. The awkwardness of holding her girlfriend with a coffee cup in the way soon gave way to comfort as Jane's hands instinctually came up to hold her in a firm embrace against her strong frame, tension that she didn't even know was present evaporating away with Maura's reciprocal movements. It felt odd to hug Maura in a public area where anyone could see them, but the risk was forgotten in the feel of the medical examiner's hands around her shoulders.

But the moment was brief. Jane's responsibilities pressed on her mind and Maura's office phone rang loudly for the busy medical examiner's attention. A groan of dissatisfaction rose from their throats, their hands twitching around their forgotten coffee cups with the need to reconnect for longer than a moment.

"I need to talk. You think you can get some time off tonight? We can meet at your place or mine, whichever is best for you," she said in a hushed tone.

"Alright, but do you think _you'll_ be able to get off work with the case?"

"I'll make time." Jane looked back behind her anxiously, expecting to see Frost lurking. "I've got to go before we get caught whispering together. Call me, even if you don't have anything new to report."

"I'll miss you too, Jane," she waved goodbye as the brunette raced off to meet the other detectives; sadly, Jane was already too far gone to hear her response.


	7. First Contact

Tuesday, 11:45 A.M.

Traffic was, as Jane had predicted, miserably slow going. If it wasn't for Korsak's experience with unused back-roads and Frost's control over the GPS unit that had been installed last fall, they would have been sitting in traffic for several hours. While Frost and Korsak argued bitterly about whose method was more efficient, Jane dressed in the backseat, ignoring the odd looks from passerby who clearly needed to focus more on driving.

Korsak pulled into a parking space near the dance hall and, for once in her life, wished she had brought Maura along. The Boston Opera House reeked of history, tradition, and old money. She had gone to one of their annual productions of "The Nutcracker" as a child on a field trip, but it was one thing to be in the audience and quite another to be investigating a potential serial killer. _As much I hated my mother for forcing me to take ballet lessons instead of spending that money on, hell, anything else, I always did enjoy watching those dancers jumping around effortlessly._ Now was not the time to be amazed, however, as they entered the building and were directed toward one of the main entrances leading to the stage. Stay focused, Jane scolded herself mentally. We're here to talk to the artistic director about the victim, not to watch the tutus and leotards.

Upon entering the raised audience seating area looking down upon the stage, Jane felt the same stirrings of awe that had impressed itself on her as child. Male and female dancers were leaping, twirling, and bouncing around the stage with emotion swelling out from their extended arms toward the imagined enraptured audience. Never had she seen such self-control before. _Maybe I should apologize to Maura about laughing at her being a ballerina if she looked like this. _

"How are we going to handle this, Jane?" Frost asked, his eyes searching the mass of dancers on the large lighted stage. "I don't think running up and picking out dancers to ask them questions is a good idea."

Before Jane could respond to Frost, a man who couldn't have been much older than 35 with shocking red hair and facial features that appeared as they were carved from marble, walked down from a raised balcony with a megaphone in his hand. Her detective senses tingled immediately as he approached but Jane knew that could have been a result of the man's unusual charisma. Looking over at her fellow detectives, she saw they had also raised their guard slightly in response to the man's sudden arrival. It was hard to pinpoint what exactly about the red-haired gentleman gave her such an uneasy feeling; he was dressed in a tailored suit that looked to be designed to be able to come off at a moment's notice, a dancer background evident in the lightness of his gait but those eyes were mildly disconcerting. Not enough to cause alarm but…just enough to make someone feel mildly inadequate.

"You'd be right, sir." The middle-aged man stated with little inflection in his voice. "Interrupting the corps while they perform, even in practice, is completely unacceptable. When one is on stage, nothing else matters but the audience, the music, and the performance. It is a sacred bond of the utmost importance to the danseur and danseuse of the company, no matter the level of skill. Even the suggesting an unscheduled interruption…it makes me slightly sick to my stomach. If you wish to talk to me or my company, learn some basic manners, first."

Taken aback, Frost frowned slightly as his instincts told him to protect his masculine pride from the middle-aged man with a serious superiority complex. Jane willed him to hold back by placing her hand out and taking over the conversation.

"We're sorry for even suggesting it then, aren't we?" she asked, hoping Frost would relax. Gratefully, Korsak came up and took Frost away from the cause of the tension now spreading in the air before they had even started the questioning process. The red-haired man smirked in amusement as the two men walked toward the seats nearest the stage, maintaining his focus upon the dancers still floating around the stage.

"Do not patronize me," he ordered out like a tyrant before turning his head away from the stage to glare at Jane's guarded appearance. "Miss Detective. You have no more understanding of what I have said than the black man I have offended. The popular American idiom, 'fake it until you make it,' has no place in the precise world of ballet. If you don't understand something, it would be best if you said so."

His eyes turned back to the stage, leaving Jane feeling as if discussion was an unnecessary formality. _Who does this guy think he is? The Lord of Dance? God, why didn't I let Maura come with me? This is going to be another long day… _But before Jane could regain her bruised confidence, the man had raised the megaphone to his lips in the direction of the stage.

"Stop the music, please." He ordered and immediately the dancers on stage stopped to look up at the man, giving the brunette beside him a brief questioning look before their focus returned to his mesmerizing blue eyes. "I feel like I've been watching two groups of dancers bump into and around each other as if the other group is not present. This is not an easy sequence but, right now, you all are making simple mistakes that are inexcusable. I have told all of you, not to get lazy with your working leg in the _pirouette_. Several times while watching, I felt nearly obligated to end the practice out of safety concerns. Some of you are wobbling around like children on their first day _en pointe_."

The sigh of being underwhelmed filled the space and the dancers visibly lowered their eyes as a group. "This is your first time working on the stage together, but you can't let nerves overwhelm. Becoming a soloist or even a principle has nothing to do with being some sort of creative virtuoso. It is all about shining in a group, becoming the character being portrayed in every part of your body. A soloist is no longer a ballet dancer. She or he is the manifestation of the character needed for the production. Right now, upon this stage, none of you are shining or keeping my attention. You think I became a principal by simply showing up on the day of the performance? I practiced until my body was literally spent, every day for twenty years. But it is unfair to hold all of you to such a high standard of skill that has little chance of being reached in this lifetime. Good first effort, everyone, but there is clearly room for improvement. Rebecca…your _chaînés_ are looking very well controlled. Given the speed of the _allegro_, that is something to be proud of. We are done for today. Fifteen minute break and meet back in the practice hall at the school for small group work with Madame Alexandra."

Sweat glistened from the dancers exposed arms as they bowed their heads in respect before separating into giggling groups of men and women. The girlish laughs and pre-pubescent high-pitched groans of frustration reminded Jane that the dancers were nothing more than just children. One small girl who was clearly shier than the rest grabbed Jane's attention, her similarity to Maura catching the brunette off guard. Methodically, the blonde girl retrieved a pair of shocking pink and purple legwarmers with the name "Rebecca" written down the sides in gold thread. Before putting them on, she looked up at the red-haired man with a marvelous smile. Jane's face released a smile in response, the girl's joy infectious at receiving a compliment, but the man remained closed. _If I didn't think this guy was a jerk before, I do now. Come on, she can't be much older than fifteen, give her a break, Mr. I-Eat-Nails-For-Breakfast._ However, his face must have reacted in a way that was enough for the small girl because she brightened even more before leaving the stage like a deer.

"I'm not a jerk, detective." He said, finally giving Jane his full attention. "Some of these dancers come to the company as children and leave as adults. When I was in the academy, I spent all day dancing and all night with my fellow students in the dormitories; this lasted from my ninth birthday to my 18th birthday. I literally forgot what my parents looked like. Every serious dancer experiences this loss, making them stronger as a result. It would be highly inappropriate for me to take a position of father in their lives."

"How can you say that?"

Red bushy brows raised in confusion. "I release air into my vocal cords which create syllables processed by your ears as words. Why would you even ask that? Do they not teach basic science in American schools?"

_Ass…_ "You know what, how about we just get to business before I do something I'll regret. We need to talk to the artistic director about a dancer's whereabouts. Do you know where we can find him or her?"

"Look no further than what is in front of your very own eyes. Yuri Grigorvich, artistic director for the Boston Ballet and former principal of the Mariinski Ballet Company." Yuri responded with fake happiness, extending his hand in greeting. "And you? I'd feel more comfortable giving out information regarding my company if I knew who I was speaking to."

Finally having a name to place with the face, Jane found herself softening to Yuri's seemingly genuine efforts to charm the detective with kindness. Sensing an opportunity, she pounced. "Jane Rizzoli, detective of the Boston Police Department. Now, what do you know about Alina Bobrova's whereabouts in the last week?"

"Alina?" he asked before sighing heavily in annoyance. "What did that difficult woman do now?"

"You don't like her?"

"No, I would not use those particular words. Alina is one of our most magnificent ballerinas on loan as part of an international exchange dancer program with several major countries but…she is particularly strong-willed and impetuous. She acts without thinking, Ms. Rizzoli. However, her skill as a character artist is second-to-none and one of the few reasons I put up with her endless nonsense." Yuri complained. "Let me guess, she's in jail for running some toddler over in a crosswalk while high on some illegal substance. I swear she does these things to spite me. If there is one thing I can't tolerate is substance abuse by my dancers, especially my principles."

Jane listened to Yuri moan over his principal ballerina but his slight upturned lips told her that he really truly enjoyed Alina's supposed antics. It must be difficult to constantly go after someone who's physically an adult but has the maturity of a child, but if the girl was as difficult as Yuri claimed there could be motive for his involvement in her murder. _I've seen people kill for far less_.

"Ms. Rizzoli, please tell me why you are here asking me about Alina Bobrova. If she was in jail, you would have just called. So…why?" His eyes lowered in sadness as his mind processed what was still left unsaid by the detective. A surge of compassion surprised Jane, his sadness affecting her much more than she thought possible given his perceived self-importance. As much as her heart ached to see his pain, the experienced brunette understood that emotions could be easily faked by a man who had spent more than half of his life on the stage.

"I'm sorry to have to inform you, Mr. Grigorvich, but Alina Bobrova was found dead yesterday." His barely recognizable cry of anguish gave Jane pause before she continued. "I'm sorry for your loss. I'm sure she'll be missed."

"Damn right she'll be missed. Mariinski will have my head when I tell them about Alina's death." Yuri exclaimed before shaking his head and returning back to his unemotional demeanor. "They loved her much more completely than I ever could. Ballerinas of the Russian style tend to be a much more vivacious group than any other group, but my bias is obvious. This is a tragedy, but the show must go on. Alina didn't check in this morning or last night for individual instruction for her performance next week so I assumed that she was sleeping off another one of her hangovers. She always loves…loved to go to that club downtown. Alina always said it made her feel alive to dance there. What an idiot…"

Immediately, Jane's head perked up and her hands grabbed the smartphone in her jacket to write what she felt would be a lead down. "What's the name of the club?"

Yuri's face crinkled as his mind flipped through the pages of memory stored in his mind. "The Rosefern. All of the old money types go there to stare at each other for no other reason besides that they have the leisure time to do so. Unlike my former prima ballerina, I have no interest in showing my talents off for free for no other reason but to have fun. What a waste of time."

At this time, Korsak and Frost returned with looks of guilt painted on their faces for leaving Jane alone with the artistic director. As much as she wanted to punish the two detectives, she knew that now was hardly the time to assault her current and ex-partner. Ignoring their looks, Jane returned her focus to Yuri.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Grigorvich. Now if you don't mind," Jane said while motioning to Korsak, purposefully leaving Frost out in order to avoid trouble. "I'm going to leave two of my detectives here to tie up some last strings with you and talk to some of your other dancers."

"I really don't like the idea of having people traipsing around the school, Ms. Rizzoli. Dancers stem from a unique group of artistic individuals who are easily excited by the simplest of questions. Once they get flustered, it is next to impossible to calm them in a timely manner and I have little time for that sort of behavior. We have a week-long performance starting tonight for 'Don Quixote'."

The unexpected complaint made Jane turn back in mild amusement as she told her plan to Frost and Korsak. _I don't think Yuri understands what exactly is going on here. I'm in control here, not him._ The detective stepped towards the artistic director, her scorn towards the man finally allowed to show. "This isn't a negotiation. At the moment, I'm telling you what's going to happen but I can get rude and just straight up make you do what I want by charging you with obstruction of justice. But then I'd have to go to my car, get the handcuffs, walk back, and then chase you because everyone always likes to think that cops are obese and can't run much farther than a yard without giving up in exhaustion. Do I look like a fat, balding cop? Now, I'm sure you can understand the importance of allowing my detectives to do their jobs. I'd hate to have to tell my boss, who would then tell the feds, who would then tell the Russian Embassy that I couldn't properly do my job because of a cocky, arrogant, pompous asshole who thinks his dancers are made of glass. God that would suck for both of us, wouldn't it?"

As quickly as it arrived, Yuri's charm dissipated, revealing the cold man underneath the façade. His blue eyes darkened into a fierce shade of navy as his hard features tensed with the effort it took to restrain the fury running through his veins. Feeling slightly threatened by this sudden change in emotion, Jane readied herself for an altercation with the retired dancer. To her relief, Korsak and Frost stepped up to protect her back and Yuri reluctantly backed down.

"Fine," Yuri motioned for the men to follow him to the back-stage area of the opera house. "Follow me, gentlemen. We have about 250 dancers in our company, not to mention the permanent staff on call. This might take a bit of time. Have fun."

Korsak followed, leaving Frost to look at his partner. "You sure about this, Jane? One of us could go with you to provide backup."

"No, I need both of you guys on the director to make sure he doesn't try to run on us or kill anyone else. Even if he isn't the killer, I'd feel more comfortable having two people watching the other dancers than just one. If I need backup, I'll give you a call," she said with a smile before walking out, speed dialing Maura's number. The only way this plan was going to work was if Maura got on board with her. _If she says no, I'll just tell her it'll be like going on a date…except we'll be undercover and potentially in the same room as a serial killer. Huh, that's really butch, even for me._

Within three rings, Maura had answered calmly. "Isles."

"It's Jane. You want to do something fun tonight?"


	8. Let's Go Undercover

A/N - Since I'm not at work and watching the Kentucky Derby, I have some time to give all of you readers some more chapters that are freshly edited for your reading pleasure. Tomorrow, I'm going to be...sleeping in late and I'm not sure if I'll put anything up. It all depends on how late I stay up to party after the Derby is finished.

* * *

Tuesday, 6:15 P.M.

Maura, upon hearing her plan to go undercover, was remarkably more excited than Jane had thought possible given the fact that they were going to be throwing themselves in danger. If the killer was there, things could go south pretty quickly, but Maura was undeterred by her warnings. While they were at her place changing into something more acceptable, Maura told her that the club was an elite playground for the rich. When Jane mentioned that it was like Pleasure Island from "Pinocchio", Maura gave a confused look, reasserting how deprived her childhood must have been. People apparently go there to watch female dancers parade endlessly around for their amusement and, if the "finer things" were lucky, a request for a closer examination in private. The detective in her had wanted to go further with asking whether the elite club was a just a front for an elite prostitution ring but, before she even had a chance to think it, Maura replied earnestly that it wasn't like that. The Rosefern was nothing more than a dance club for those who couldn't bare the idea of co-mingling with people outside their social circles. With some clever persuading, the brunette got her girlfriend to expand on the details further:

"_The club is really just a club, Jane. They serve Bollinger vintage instead of mixing Cosmopolitans but, it in the end; it is still just a dance club. The only difference is that because of the…importance of the clientele, they are allowed to touch the dancers because, well, they can." Maura slung her hair back, shimmying into her pencil skirt. "I used to go there a lot when I was younger. All of the prep school girls were there and I was in a rebellious period; but when I learned that women were being degraded in that way, I immediately found something else to occupy my time after the sun went down." _

Maura immediately clammed up after telling her this, leaving Jane to dress in silence. She remained silent for the entire drive in her Aston until they arrived in the line to the valet.

Turning her head toward the anxious brunette who was squirming in the borrowed dress like a dog in a sweater, Maura turned the radio down, issuing a sigh of relief from Jane. "Thank. You. For turning that off. I felt like I was listening to the official NPR soundtrack, complete with endless hours of easy listening hits such as 'Rain Blowing in Mountains' or 'Crisp Sunrise with Breeze.'"

"How can you say that?" Maura asked bewilderedly. "It's bossa nova, a popular Brazilian fusion of jazz and samba. Maybe if you listened a little harder, you would have noticed the difference."

A heavy sigh pounded from Jane's lips as she slowly turned from the bright lights of the gentrified downtown Boston streets. "Sorry."

"You should think about trademarking that word since you use it so often." Maura muttered exhaustively, moving the Aston up in the line. "What's the game-plan for tonight? You explained it to me earlier but you didn't go into detail. We get into the club and then…"

"We stick together as I get a feel for the place and then I go and question the bartenders, see if they know anything about Alina or Russian dancers in general. As much I would prefer for you to stick by me, I know how much you like to feel busy so you can try to get some of the dancers to talk to you on an individual basis. You'll have a better shot at chatting them up than I would since you belong to this crowd more than I do." Jane said authoritatively, before grabbing Maura's clutch and taking out the blonde's smartphone. "Before we go in there though, I'm setting your phone up to ring out an alarm every fifteen minutes. That way if we get separated from each other, Maura, we can find each other. I know, I know, it's not the best plan but it's the best that I can do without backup from headquarters. If everything goes fubar on us, call Frost or Korsak. They'll be expecting either of us to call regardless if the shit hits the fan."

The valet with the ambiguous face knocked briskly on Maura's window. As Maura's body remained motionless, Jane hoped that her girlfriend hadn't been expecting the same kind of affair as the time they had trolled for a lesbian killer at a lezzie bar last year. That operation had been sanctioned by the department. Tonight, they were essentially going undercover with no immediate backup or prior approval on the part of the captain. Korsak had checked off on it at the Opera House, but she knew his ass was on the line if, god forbid, the killer decided to show up at Alina's hangout. _We've got to get this right. No exceptions. Maura's with me and Korsak approved on this scrambled together last minute op…if anything happens, it'll be on me._ The idea of losing her shield wasn't as distressing as losing Maura, she meant everything to her.

Another knock of the valet's knuckles sounded in the inside of the car yet Maura remained still, making no movement to lower the window to talk with the young man. Looking over, Jane wondered what was going on in her mind. _God, why did I let her do this? She's only did one undercover op before and that involved her teasing lesbians with her amply displayed assets. Maura can't handle this, she's going to crack._

But just as this thought crossed her mind, Maura lowered the window and gave the man the signal for a minute before raising the tinted window. "Are you scared?"

"No," she answered back with little hesitation. "I've done a lot more with far less. If you don't want to do this, we can go in together and you wait in the car-"

"Absolutely not, Jane. I'm not a dog. If I sit in the car and wait for you, I'll just go crazy. And, not to mention, we have to stay together because you are an outsider to these people. Just because _I _enjoy your…frankness, doesn't mean the feeling will be shared by others." She extended her hand toward Jane's with a worried attempt at a smile. "I just want you to not get hurt. I could care less about plans and fubar. Your safety is my main priority and if that means I have to put myself in danger, then so be it."

"You're such a romantic."

"I know," the blonde medical examiner smiled before opening the door, the sticky air of summer filling the air-conditioned car, "but so are you, when you want to be. It's show-time. By the way, what's fubar?"

Jane barely restrained herself from laughing at the confused blonde as they both walked toward the understated entrance of the club. _Leave it to Maura to not know what fubar means_.

Despite the large line of European pedigreed sports cars were ushered into the underground parking garage with big, burly men checking the ownership of each individual car as it swooped inside, Jane couldn't see a similar line around the entrance. Well-dressed men and women exited from their cars like American royalty, threw their keys in the general direction of the valet, and walked right in. No one asked whether they belonged, but Jane could understand why there was no real need to. In a world where people have no problem shelling out 50k for monogrammed cashmere towels from Dubai, it wasn't that hard to spot those that didn't have the financial means to act similarly.

A couple gave Jane an odd look of revulsion before turning toward the blonde and relaxing slightly. The woman hanging off of her idiotic looking boyfriend delivered a miniscule look of acceptance, sauntering into the club's entrance. Tapping on Maura's shoulder, Jane got her attention. "What was that about? They just looked at me like I took their one chance to get adopted by Daddy Warbucks."

"Like 'Annie'? I used to love that movie when I was a child. Do you think it's because I subconsciously related to the struggles of the character?" Maura whispered back excitedly. The brunette's playful nudge returned the blonde's focus back to the question. "That's Jenna Watts and her latest model plaything. You know, of the Watts Family? Their great-great-grandfather revolutionized the infrastructure of Boston with new advances in cheaper ways to move energy across the city. Back when I was a kid, my mom would tell me about how they were _nouveau riche_. They've been mostly accepted by most of the upper elite but they still have a bit of attitude."

"Oh, well in that case, it must suck to be them," Jane sarcastically bantered. As they reached the lavish interior of the club, she immediately stopped to take the space in for future reference.

Minimalism seemed to be the chosen theme for the large space as Jane noted the lack of waste or unnecessary luxuries. Inconspicuous opaque glass walls that nearly reached the ceiling obscured the various areas of the club to those walking in from the front entrance which frustrated Jane because it reasserted to her already anxious brain the potential risks of going undercover with no backup or prior knowledge of the club's layout. Muted pink and red shades of fluorescent lighting seemed to flood the club which seemed to be homage to its namesake. For people who were used to constant help, the lack of staff to assist the rich and famous in getting their drinks was disconcerting to the detective. Despite Maura's calling it a dance club, hardly anyone from her obscured vision was dancing because of the lack of music.

Jane's eyes continued to travel around the expanse of the club as she gave her jacket to the doorman who seemed slightly amazed to see a new face. Her girlfriend's sudden grasp of her hand took Jane away before she could respond and, with several experienced turns throughout the confusing layout, they ended up at an empty table near the bar. Everyone seemed to be waiting here for something to happen but what that was, Jane could only guess.

As they sat down, Maura smiled at some of the occupants of the tables and was given several small smiles in return. "Everyone waits here until the walls fall, revealing the stage for the dancers. The bartender checks I.D., just like any other club but since most of these teens have been living on daddy's yacht for most of their life, they can be quite…manipulative. Though they might have cracked down on that since the last time I was here."

"How many people are here, exactly?"

"I don't know. They don't exactly publish records of this sort of thing in the Boston Daily, Jane," she stated with a hint of sarcasm, moving her hand out to caress Jane's with her own. "If you don't want to separate, I can stay."

She shook her head as the eyes of the other patrons continued to appraise her connection to Maura. "No, I'm fine. The last thing we need to do is deviate from the plan, especially now. I'll be fine, really."

The feeling of Maura's hand on her own with everyone watching was the last thing on her mind. Nothing else mattered but getting out of here with no incidents, Jane chanted subconsciously. Despite the attention she was receiving, the brunette moved her hand on top of Maura's to assure her that she was ready to go. "I'm going to head over to get a drink while talking the bartender up about the victim. If anything happens, I'll call."

With a reassuring smile, the detective left her one and only lifeline alone to investigate the dancers who would be revealing themselves shortly. Now, without Maura to be her shield, she was left alone to be critiqued openly by the nouveau riche and old money types wandering from the bar to their tables excitedly. Only she was unsure of the environment, nerves racking her senses, dulling her well-honed skills gained in the Boston Police Department. Being an undercover cop while on the lookout for a killer was not the time to be off her game.

As Jane looked back and saw Maura giving her two subtle thumbs up in encouragement, resolve and confidence recharged her focus in the job at hand. The catty voices subsided and her mind filled with the steady staccato beat of her heeled feet upon the floor, exhaustion giving way to adrenaline.

"Hey," Jane said flirtatiously, her mind working overtime to get a cover-story together. "Do you have something stiff back there? My girlfriend is getting on my last nerves. She's hardly paying any attention to me like I don't even matter. Can you believe that? I mean, come on, if I can't keep someone's attention, I don't know who can."

The bartender looked Jane up and down with a disbelieving attitude. "Who's your girlfriend?"

"The blonde over in the corner looking like the cat that ate the canary," she pointed in the general direction of Maura's table, knowing that she would be there with a goofy smile on her face. "You can't miss her. I didn't even want to come to this stupid place, anyway. There's way too much money floating around, in my opinion."

The bartender nodded approvingly before going behind the counter and preparing a Grand Marnier on the rocks, leaving Jane with her thoughts for a brief second. _It was a good catch noticing that most of the employees for this club aren't connected to the same level of affluence as those enjoying themselves._ She wasn't sure about using that angle but her lack of preparation left her without much options. Tempted to look back to make sure Maura was alright, the brunette decided against it as the bartender slid the drink over to her after dealing with another customer. A grateful smile spread across her face before the orange flavored cognac lightly touched her lips. He came back and she set the glass back down much harder than she intended, the clash sound of glass on glass harsh on her ears.

"Sorry, I'm just so frustrated with her right now." Jane frowned, barely noticing the perimeter glass walls falling down slowly to reveal a smaller glass section of the club. "She said I could meet some dancer here tonight but I don't see her. Alina something or other…she's supposedly Russian, I think."

"Yeah, Alina. That girl is wacky but really good at dancing. Everyone loves her." His hand travelled through his rough brown locks before dropping his eyes back to Jane's. "But I haven't seen her in a while. She normally drops by at least every other day."

"When did you last see her?"

The bartender looked shocked by the woman's sudden hardness in tone. "Jeez, what are you a cop? I don't know…I remember seeing her on Saturday night, drinking vodka as usual and talking about some annoying dance director with a stick up his ass. We don't open on Sundays so I guess she hasn't been around since Monday," he said, cleaning Jane's finished glass.

Jane looked behind and saw people beginning to move toward the glass hidden stage. "Did she talk to anyone when you last saw her? My girlfriend is always talking about the woman like she's the best thing since sliced bread and I want to make sure she isn't cheating on me."

"Yeah…she was talking to some guy with the craziest eyes I've ever seen. It was like he was staring right through me or something," he said with an obvious shudder of fear. "People that come through here are used to getting their way but they aren't all bad. That guy with Alina, though…he was different. It was like he had nothing to lose."

But before she had a chance to question him further, a loud scream came from near the revealed stage and soon came the stampede as the dignified men and women ran out of the club. Whatever was going on, it had everyone running scared. Her heart told her to go find Maura in the rush of the crowd but common sense demanded she wait until the crowd dissipated slightly. _The last thing Maura would want is me getting trampled. Nothing is going to go wrong. I know Maura will be alright_.

Minutes passed before Jane could finally brave the current of scared people. Digging out her badge, Jane brandished it in front of everyone she passed. Her eyes immediately spotted Maura on the stage, near two women who had apparently been injured in the stampede. "Maura, you okay?"

The blonde looked up with eyes full of tears, covered in blood. "The killer was here, Jane. Look up at the ceiling…the messages and their hearts are gone. But two victims now…why would a person kill two innocent people and put them on display like this?"

"I don't know, honey," she replied soothingly, turning to call Frost and Korsak. "I just don't know."


	9. Change Is Underfoot

Tuesday, 9:00 P.M.

Maura's barely restrained tears haunted Jane's consciousness throughout her mandatory efforts to secure the crime scene. As much as Jane wanted to make sure Maura was alright, there was no time; between keeping the remaining patrons from slipping out to their expensive cars and trying to keep the crime scene from being contaminated from curious lookey-loos, her focus was already wearing thin without factoring in her girlfriend's feelings in the mix. After ordering the bartender to replace the mood lighting with something more substantial, the brunette's eyes drifted over her shoulder, watching Maura's seemingly normal efforts to document the two dead women placed upon the stage. Her twitching fingers and shuddering shoulders were the only indication that something was amiss, given that her face was hidden behind golden waves of hair. _Maura…I'm so sorry for getting you wrapped up in this._

Jane excused herself from another stalled conversation with a potential witness and walked to the stage. The two women displayed in the nude on stage gave the anxious detective a sense of déjà vu; their wrists and ankles showed evidence of black-and-blue bruising representative of being bound, eyes covered in a velvet blindfold, hair dyed burning red, and their hearts taken out in the same crudely efficient way. Heavy blood drops rained from the two messages displayed on the low ceiling, falling slowly upon the pale violated women before coagulating into dry brown puddles on the cold cement floor of the stage. Maura had since stood up from the bloodied bodies, covered in blood from her attempts to save the women from the inevitable.

Jane coughed to announce her presence. "Frost and Korsak should be here in about 15 minutes and I'll take you home."

"No," Maura said defiantly, her eyes erupting in fury.

"What…what's wrong? I thought you'd want to go home after everything?" Jane asked, knowing as soon as the words hit her mouth that she shouldn't have said them. "You don't need to be here, Maura. I've got it under control."

"Yes, Jane, I do need to be here," the blonde spat out. "I'm the head medical examiner, first responder to the scene, and I'm covered in blood. I can't exactly go home and forget about everything tonight."

A heavy silence developed between the two women. Never had Jane seen Maura so furious at anything, nonetheless her, before. Her hands travelled nervously through her loose brown curls, trying to come up with the right response to this new side of her best friend and lover. "This isn't your fault, Maura. If anything, I shouldn't have let you come with me on this idiotic baiting expedition. I could have waited but I wasn't patient. All I was thinking about was saving a life before the killer could strike again and not your safety. I know that I say this too often; but, I'm sorry."

"I really wish you would stop saying that. Stop being sorry for once, Jane. I made the decision to go." Maura screamed in frustration. "Instead of being sorry all the time, why don't you think about your actions for once? Think before you speak."

Looking over her shoulder, Jane quickly dragged Maura to the slightly concealed wings of the stage. "You're such a hypocrite."

"I'm a hypocrite?" she angrily replied back, making an effort to whisper. "Stop using big words that you don't understand, Jane."

"Every time I do exactly what you're doing right now, you get annoyed, but when Maura does it, everything is acceptable." Jane said, frustration making her words become jumbled. "If you don't want to talk about it, fine. If you don't want to talk to me about it, that's fine too. But don't bite me because I care."

Shadows danced in the dark from the bloody messages still dripping from the ceiling above the bodies, ignored by the two quarreling women. In a split second, Maura's anger snapped, leaving her slumped against the slim frame of her brooding girlfriend. Jane felt both her mind and body relax as the blonde's perfume played with her nose. She knew that her borrowed dress was now becoming evidence as the blood seeped from Maura's skirt, but that was the last thing on Jane's mind.

"I know that you care, Jane. It's just…I feel like if I had been just a little bit faster, maybe they would have been alive or I could have caught the killer in the act. Wishful thinking, I know, but I just can't stop myself from feeling at fault. I'm a doctor, a physician to the dead; I hate seeing my patients abused in this way. It makes me sick to know that I could have stopped this carnage, Jane," Maura shuddered before turning away, the tears finally falling down her cheeks.

"Sweetie, you can't do this to yourself." Jane said, her voice wavering slightly as memories came back to her conscious. "It'll lead you down a bad path. I was a patrol cop, wet behind the ears and looking to make a name for myself. On the radio, me and my partner got a call for back-up with a robbery suspect and, the stupid cocky kid that I was, ignored the call even though we were only a block away because he said that he had it under control. I had been looking to get fast-tracked for the detective's exam so we went to an apartment of what we presumed was a rape victim. I knew that being a first responder to a rape case would give me some juice to work with and I needed all I could get, being a woman aiming for a detective's shield. When we got up to the apartment, there was no one there besides a bunch of giggling kids, prank-calling and wasting time."

Maura leaned back from Jane's embrace, her eyes searching the brunette's shadowed ones. "What happened to the police officer?"

"The suspect was armed with a concealed weapon and shot him before committing suicide." Jane said before sighing heavily. "No one blamed me, which nearly killed me because I wanted the blame to be on me. Blame…gets rid of guilt. I started doing things to get rid of the guilt that I felt, things that I'm not proud of, Maura. Finally, my commanding officer told me that if I didn't shape up and focus on the present, he'd discharge me from the force. I screwed up and nearly let guilt overwhelm my entire future but you…you didn't make a mistake. These girls were already going to die, whether it was here or somewhere else. You did the best that you could do with the inevitable. That's something to be proud of."

"Oh Jane," the blonde said with compassion, lifting her hands to caress the strong smooth lines of her girlfriend's face. Jane's response was lost as a loud assortment of noises came from the front of the club near the doorman's post. The remaining patrons of the club who had chosen to not leave jumped in excitement as the sight of patrol cops, crime scene techies, and detectives rampaged through the foyer of the club. Frost and Korsak were the first inside and were looking around earnestly for Jane.

"Jane?" Frost's voice billowed into their ears, the moment between the two lovers ruined.

_Damn it, Frost._ The brunette shrugged to her girlfriend, stepped out from the wings of the stage. "Frost, I'm here. Maura and I were just looking for some evidence behind the wings, but we came up empty. We've got two victims, both female with the same M.O. as the last victim, including the bloody messages. As much I hate to admit it, this is definitely a serial."

The two men walked toward the crime scene being hastily taped up by techies and Jane noticed Maura walk from behind her, away from the bodies. Korsak lifted an eyebrow in confusion upon seeing the blood covered medical examiner walk off from the scene, but Jane's eyes told him to leave it alone. "She's probably going to go change her clothes," the detective reasoned, watching Frost look up at the bloody messages on the wall with a look of disgust.

Korsak scratched his head bewilderedly, following the raining blood drops coming from the ceiling. "So what do we have here…**Star-crossed lovers meet upon a balcony, their fate sealed with the kiss of time. No matter the thousands of tales spun by the loyal third, nothing could retell this tale of woe and tragedy. Hope lost, melancholy gained.** Well, at least we know this guy is still committed to making absolutely no sense."

"It's our job to make this make sense, Korsak," Jane said while watching the crime scene techies hover about the crime scene. "There has to be a pattern, something we can manipulate to get the link between these murders and get this serial off the streets. Come on, guys. Let's think outside the box."

Frost turned from the bloody messages, his eyes subconsciously moving in time with the ideas floating in his head. "We've got three murdered women with similar body types; dyed red hair; hearts taken out of their chests; bruised bodies; and bloody messages. I know you're in love with this artistic director guy for this, but we were there all day, Jane. Unless he planned this beforehand, he couldn't have done it. So, in conclusion, we've got nothin'. It's kind of hard to put a pattern together with nothin', Jane."

Jane ignored Frost, pacing up and down the small expanse of the stage. She knew there had to be something between these three victims that linked them together besides the obvious. Serials like this one were cocky, they didn't think they could get caught and had no qualms about leaving evidence behind, making her job easier, but having excess evidence didn't help if she had no idea how it connected to the big picture. _Hell, I don't even know what the big picture is._ Jane hated to admit it, but she was absolutely at a loss. There was something here...she could feel it in her bones.

Suddenly, a flash of creativity hit Jane's overworked brain. "Wait…what was the last message written over the first victim, Alina Bobrova's body, Frost?"

"**The Beauty slumbers peacefully awaiting the kiss that will set her free amongst the Sin.**" Frost read from his opened iPad. "Do you see something?"

"Yeah, but I may just be spinning my wheels. Maybe the messages aren't independent from each other. This serial is trying to tell us something, literally." The brunette shook her head, nodding briefly at Maura's barely noticed return. "His victims all relate back to the story he's trying to tell."

Maura, now clad in a pair of borrowed Boston Police Department coveralls used for evidence retrieval on clothing, looked at the pacing brunette with focused hazel eyes that had none of the weakness of earlier. "But Jane, everything in your theory hinges on what story he's trying to tell. If the victims are connected by these messages, it's vital that we focus on them instead of running around, trying to catch nonexistent leads."

"But that could end up narrowing our focus too much, causing us to lose sight of what's right in front of our faces, Maura. The more time we spend trying to figure out the meaning behind these messages could mean more deaths in the long-run. That's the last thing we need for this case," Korsak counterclaimed against Maura's own theory. "Our aim is to get this serial off the street, not understand his psyche and M.O. I say we focus on what we do know; the victims. The last thing Boston needs is another Boston Strangler scare."

Frost looked from Maura to Korsak and back to Jane's stoic demeanor, sensing the tension between the medical examiner and experienced detective. "Or we can do a little bit of both. Jane and I can focus on the messages and Korsak can interpret the victims. This doesn't have to be an either-or scenario."

Unaware of the others' expectant looks, Jane stopped pacing as another realization hit her. "Oh my god, don't you see? The beauty is slumbering coincides with the first victim and our new victims are lovers who shouldn't be together…the next victim is probably going to be the last. Goddamn it…"

"That's an assumption, Jane. You can't be sure of that-"

"Maura, I don't have time to use the scientific method to determine the validity of my hypothesis. What always happens to star-crossed lovers? They die, case closed. This killer isn't going to keep killing until we figure him out; once this guy is finished, he's going to hop on a plane and be out of our jurisdiction, forever. We have to find something that we can use to get him while he's still in our reach." Jane commanded before her phone vibrated in her clutch purse and with a hurried motion, she answered the call before the phone could ring twice. "Rizzoli. Yes…yes, I know, Lieutenant. No…yes, I can be right there. Twenty minutes, top, sir."

The anxious brunette exhaled with pent up frustration, looking up at Korsak. "Thanks, Sgt. Korsak, for calling the brass on me. Now Loo is on my ass, saying he wants me in his office, yesterday. This day keeps getting better and better."

_Damn it, what does he want? If he takes this case from me at this critical point…I just might have to go rogue. It's too late to catch someone up to speed on this case, especially now._ A growl emanated from the brunette's throat, anger evident in the stillness of her body. There was no time to sit around playing politics with the Loo, she needed to be working with Korsak and Frost.

Searching her pocket, Maura threw her Aston's keys in Jane's general direction. "I'll be a little bit longer with the bodies so take my car. You'll get there faster and I won't have to worry about getting someone else to drive it back for me."

"Man…can't I catch a break?" Frost muttered, lowering his head in misery upon losing his chance to drive Maura's Aston.

Jane rolled her eyes in response and raised a hand in thanks before walking briskly away from the crime scene. "While I'm getting chewed out by the brass; Frost and Korsak, I want you to look into these two women and see what you can find. Maura, do your autopsy thing and ask the techies to put a rush on all of the evidence with these murders, including the first victim. I'm tired of working without some kind of evidence to back our theories up. Call me if anything breaks in the case."

Frost, Korsak, and Maura sighed heavily and began to get to work. It was going to be another all-nighter for the homicide unit and the medical examiner.


	10. Meeting with the Loo

Tuesday, 11:35 P.M.

Three knocks announced Jane's presence at the door of Lieutenant Sean Cavanaugh and she walked in without hearing his reply. She knew there would be no point to say anything given that hardly anyone went to the Loo's office unless he asked to see them beforehand. He was the principal of the homicide unit; no one wants to see their principal on a recreational basis.

With a frown that never left his face, Cavanaugh stared at the brunette's figure-hugging black dress and matching stilettos and shook his head disapprovingly. "I'm going to assume your choice of dress has nothing to do with the fact that two new bodies were found at the ritzy place for the rich and famous, a couple of hours ago."

"That would be a wise assumption for the both of us, sir," Jane said innocently, her feet jumping slightly in place in pain. _Damn it, Maura. I know you think I look sexy in these suicide shoes but does sexy have to come at the expense of comfortable?_

Cavanaugh looked back down at the report that had his attention before she had walked in and Jane was forced to waste precious time staring at her boss while ignoring the pinpricks of pain travelling through her toes. Her eyes rolled just as he set his pen down, returning his focus back on the frustrated detective. "Am I keeping you from something, Rizzoli?"

"Yes," Jane replied in a rush of exasperation. "I'm working a case and it's really hot. As much as I love to see your face every-day, I'd really like to get back to the team and solve it."

She knew that her sarcasm was slightly rude and on any other day, she would have apologized but this was a critical moment in the case. Being on the sidelines chatting with the brass about the details of a case they had no connection with while she could be in the trenches was beyond frustrating. _I've been waiting for this serial to give us something to work with and now, I'm forced to wait, again._

"Rizzoli, I'm going to ignore your attitude as an unfortunate side-effect of being sleep-deprived." he said with bristling annoyance, motioning the detective to take a seat in front of his desk. "Catch me up to speed on your current case. It's so hard to get Sgt. Korsak on the phone, as of late."

Jane sighed heavily, her hands immediately going to rub her pained feet after sitting down in the uncomfortable straight-backed chair. "Three female victims with external bruising on the wrists and knees were found in two locations in the last two days. All have been physically altered with what we believe to be post-mortem. Messages have been deliberately painted in blood over the bodies of all three victims and these messages seem to be connected to each other. Maura Isles found that the first victim was poisoned with a lethal dosage of atropine. We don't have anything else yet concerning hard evidence but I've asked Maura to rush the lab to get more evidence to work with. That's about it, sir."

"What about the Russian angle?" He asked with mild curiosity.

"Not a big deal." Jane lied, hoping Cavanaugh wouldn't persist on that line of logic.

"Really," he questioned, the small smile dissipating into a frown. "If that is the case, then why have I been contacted by the media with an early edition copy of Boston Daily with a headline that clearly says different?"

Cavanaugh threw a freshly printed edition of the Boston Daily at Jane's face, barely managing to not hit her as her hands came up quickly to catch it. In bright, bold, black font, the headline, "Heartbreaker snatches yet another visiting Russian princess; authorities remain speechless as serial killer roams Boston streets" yelled out from the newspaper print in an obvious attempt to attract readers. Unbeknownst to the writers of this sensationalized drivel, Jane knew that this would do nothing but give the killer the attention that he craved while creating unnecessary panic across Boston. Panicky citizens made unreliable and unhelpful witnesses, leaving her and the prosecution high and dry with nothing to use to convince the jury that the killer was guilty.

Looking up, Jane frowned, anger showing on her face. "Sir, I don't know what these reporters got their facts for this story since we just started putting things together a couple of hours ago, but I can assure you-"

"You can't assure me anything until you get the murderer of these girls off the street, Rizzoli, so don't try to play that with me. The Russian angle by itself is enough to get the feds involved given the international implications." He sighed in exhaustion, glaring at the brunette. "Detective, this case is swiftly developing into a potential cluster for the department. Please, tell me you have this under control."

The brunette struggled to retain her poker-face despite her obvious state of exhaustion. "I have it under control, Lieutenant."

"Really." Cavanaugh deadpanned, challenging his subordinate.

"Yes," Jane stated, returning his challenge with confidence. "I do."

"Then what do you suggest our next action as department should be, Detective? Since you have this 'under control', I'd figure you'd know best as the lead on this case."

This was a big gamble; but if there ever was a time to be brave, this was it. Jane looked Cavanaugh in the eyes with a confident smile, hoping the confidence was being reflected in the rest of her body. "If the media want to run with a story, we'll give them one. We can set up a press junket which allows the media to get the info they want but allows us to control what that info is. They get off our back, the public is left assured, and BPD retains their standing in the community. It's hardly an ideal situation, sir; but at this point, we're hardly left with much other choice. They're going to go ahead with the story, regardless of our actions."

Going to the press was the last thing Jane had wanted to do with this sensitive case. Giving the serial killer attention would just increase his confidence but with this boost in confidence came an increase in time to work with. If the killer saw his actions being reported, he would feel validated, spending more time working out his next victim in order to bring more attention to his actions. All serials were alike; there motivations might be different but their actions followed similar trends and patterns. _The more time spent figuring out the patterns, the more their M.O. falls into place. I learned that from Korsak when I was just starting out and I kept getting on him about the old days of the Irish Crime Wars._

His answering chuckle surprised the detective, resisting the urge to congratulate her ego. "Either you're getting smarter or you're getting to know me far too well but we finally agree on something without having to argue first. I'll see you bright and early in your dress blues since the public have been in love with the Hero of Boston since she got shot last summer. If we can keep this case on low-profile, I can keep the feds out of the mix, which I know would make you very happy, Rizzoli. You're dismissed."

_Wait, I'm being thrown out to the wolves? Come on! Isn't Sgt. Korsak supposed to throw himself into the line of fire? Damn it…that means I have to do my hair._ Nodding her head toward the Lieutenant, Jane rose from the chair and hobbled in pain out of his office. A sigh of released tension came from her mouth followed by an unexpected fist pump. Despite being happy for making the Loo pleased with her actions, she was mostly exhilarated that she didn't have to deal with the feds sniffing around and mucking up. _Feds can never do anything right except take all the glory. This is my show, no one else's._ Now, it was back to business.


	11. A Million Mistakes

A/N - Hmm...I'm surprised that so many people think Jane is being a jackass to Maura. I never intended for her to be percieved that way...I guess I dropped the ball somewhere when writing this ff. To me, Jane's just troubled and being slightly self-centered but a jackass...I don't know if I'd go that far but to each his own. :) Hope you're all still having fun reading.

* * *

Wednesday, 12:15 A.M.

After getting out of her mandatory meeting with the brass, Jane called everyone together for a meeting in the operation room of the homicide unit. Jane managed to find a quick couple of seconds to change back into the only remaining clothes she had at the precinct, a pair of jeans and a white cotton t-shirt, in the bathroom before the cavalry arrived looking exhausted. Korsak's bland suit looked even more rumpled than normal; Frost had taken off his matching jacket somewhere, accentuating the wrinkled light purple button-down underneath; and Maura was visibly uncomfortable having the few detectives still on duty see her in the crime scene coverall still draping her figure. They were all unhappy, but Jane needed them to work just a little longer to get this case solved. _We're near the end…just a little bit more._

They all shuffled into the space to find Jane standing near the screen with an expectant look on her face, waiting for someone to report anything new. Frost spoke up first, ignoring the heavy sigh that plied itself from his mouth beforehand. "We had the techs do a portable fingerprint scan on the two victims. Hits came back on two work visas: Irina Dotsenko and Natalia Gerasimova. Both are here to dance from the Mariinski for the Boston Ballet, just like Alina Bobrova. They are both in their early twenties."

Jane nodded, turning her gaze toward her tired girlfriend, softening her severity slightly. "Did we get anything back from CSU?"

"Yes and no," Maura said slowly. "The blood results for the message written with the first victim came back positive to the victim. The killer used a mixture of linswax oil, commonly used in oil-based paint, to make sure the blood didn't dry too quickly, presumably giving him enough time to both plan and write the message at the location. She also had a fairly high blood alcohol level for a woman of her size but given her like to party, that may just be circumstantial. I just finished the autopsy for the two new victims and given CSU the bodily samples, but I wouldn't expect anything back from them for a while, even with the rush I placed on the results. They had an officer involved shooting at Charlestown last night."

"You did great, Maura. I can't expect you to perform miracles at such a late hour." Jane comforted the blonde with an attempt at a bright smile. "Apparently the press has caught wind of our case and their trying to use it to gain an advantage over BPD."

She walked over to hand the newspaper from the Loo to Korsak. "Despite Korsak being the Sergeant on this case, I have to play nice with the press tomorrow morning. Listen, I know we're all tired, but we need to find something to feed the press in order to reassure the public that 'The Heartbreaker' isn't a big deal. If I go in there with what we've got now, it's going to look like BPD is incompetent."

In unison, all three of her co-workers groaned in response to the news and the incendiary headline. Jane's eyes met Maura's own half-lidded pupils, wishing nothing more than to tell everyone to leave in order to provide her girlfriend with some semblance of comfort. The temptation was next to impossible to ignore, twitching took over her entire body with the effort to retain control over her desires. _Even exhausted, she looks so deliciously perfect. Her hair's all messy in that lame attempt to put it in a bun framed her natural face, those exuberant eyes still managing to keep Jane's limited focus…pure perfection._ Never had it been so hard to ignore the attraction between them, never had she wanted another human being as much as Maura at that moment. Noticing her attention, Maura turned beet-red, her hands fidgeting as a result of a sudden unwanted burst of arousal. _How can we be so turned on for each other after everything that happened today? We haven't had a proper night's sleep in a bed since last Sunday._

"Okay," Jane cleared her throat, reluctantly refocusing on the two detectives in the room. "What if we spin this to the press: young women connected to the Boston Ballet have been found murdered in conjunction with what we believe to be a series of connected events; however, we believe these events to not be indicative of a serial murderer."

"Lying to the press usually doesn't end well for both parties." Korsak stated knowingly.

The brunette nodded before walking toward the three of them. "Trust me, I know, but I'd rather risk lying to increase our chances of catching this guy over telling people the reassuring message of: 'Yeah, we've got a serial killer on the loose who has a thing for pretty ballerinas. But, don't panic, it's just Russian ballerinas…we think. Honestly, we're pretty much in the dark with this one, as well. Don't panic, though.'"

"What about the connection with the Boston Ballet?" Frost asked. "You like the artistic director for this, Jane. Why not tell the public that we have a potential person of interest, let the community put pressure on him, and get an opening when he makes a mistake trying to prove his innocence?"

"I don't want to be the rain on the parade," Maura chimed in, looking over at Jane briefly before looking over at the rest of the detectives, "but we don't have much conclusive evidence to go after this artistic director. Everything we have is circumstantial, at best. The only thing we really have is the atropine and that could have come from anywhere. Even without a prescription, it's not that difficult to import the drug from Canadian distributors."

Jane leaned against the desk nearest Korsak, tension forming on her chiseled facial features. "Which puts us back to square one," she said, hands running through her hair before being caught on knots of tangled loose curls. As much as she hated to admit it, this case was making her crazy.

Another heavy sigh came from everyone, causing Jane to shake her head. "Let's all take a breather and come back in the morning. We're not getting anything done when we're this tired. I'll call Korsak before the press conference to touch base."

Korsak and Frost rushed to head out to the small assortment of cots used for detectives who couldn't or wouldn't go home in the middle of a case, leaving Jane and Maura alone together for the first time since the incident at the club. Their eyes met, repressed attraction travelled from each woman's gaze, the fear of being watched finally ignored with the overwhelming need to reconnect in any way possible.

Before she knew what was happening, Jane had cut down the short distance separating the two women from each other. As she reached Maura, the brunette's hands remained glued to her side; the fear of starting of something she couldn't finish making movement impossible.

Jane's eyes roamed the barely revealed figure of her girlfriend, excitement making it difficult to think. "You look…really good."

A blush colored Maura's cheeks before she turned away coyly. "You're being sarcastic."

"No," Jane whispered, passion making her voice weak and raspy, "I'm being absolutely truthful. You look absolutely exhausted but it works for you. Kind of reminds me of that time when you said I couldn't last all night and I proved you wrong, repeatedly."

"Stop it, Jane." The blonde whispered back as she slowly moved away from Jane's hungry eyes. "There are people here…your fellow detectives will see…"

"I don't care," she growled, pushing Maura toward the darkened corner of the operations room. "I still owe you a good time since everything went south at the club tonight. You know, I've always wondered if you get off on telling me to stop. Each time you use it, I just get this obsessive need to prove to you how much you don't want me to stop. You like it when I ignore you, when I go faster, rougher, stronger. Tell me you like it. Tell me you love me."

A surprised groan emanated from the blonde's lungs as the lights, upon not sensing any movement in the room, turned off, leaving them in total darkness. Jane's mind was blank as everything not immediately identified as Maura, ceased in relevance. Giving the eager detective access to her neck in submission, she closed her hazel eyes as the pleasurable waves of pressure began to billow toward the hot heat threatening to release a deluge of wetness upon her coveralls.

"Yes, yes, yes," she chanted in a whimper, fidgeting her body toward the brunette's teasing hands that were avoiding the one area that she needed touched most of all. "Please…don't stop…"

Moments of inaction on Jane's part gave Maura pause. Jane's heavy hands were motionless on the slight line of fabric outlining her bare breasts and her head was still nestled in the crook of her neck. She couldn't understand what her girlfriend's reasoning was behind this new sexual technique of doing absolutely nothing but it wasn't working. A quiet silence filled the space, darkness enveloping the two lovers until the blonde heard a small sound coming up from her neck. Looking down in the murky dark, she realized the sound was coming from Jane.

"Sweetheart…" Maura began before she felt the unfamiliar sensation of warm drool running down her neck, accompanied by a full-blown snore from the brunette.

"Well," she said quietly, her eyes rolling up in annoyance, "this is different. I've never had a person fall asleep on me in the middle of sex before. I swear…you have the body of a woman and the mind of a man, Jane."


	12. A Killer Is Revealed

A/N - Before everyone gets out their angry typing fingers over last chapter, I'm going to agree with you that falling asleep in the middle of having sex with Maura Isles is a little inconsiderate on Jane's part but I intended it to be. You can't see improvement without reaching rock-bottom and I think Jane has officially gotten to that point. From now, it'll be better. Also, our killer is finally revealed...unless you've figured out who it is already. Have fun reading.

* * *

Wednesday, 8:35 A.M.

Jane stood in front of the mirror, checking out her appearance before throwing herself to the wolves in this hastily thrown together press conference. Maura had gratefully dropped off her dress blues, a chocolate chip muffin, and a cup of coffee on her desk sometime after Jane had awoken alone in the blonde's office. She was unsure of how she got there but there was hardly any time to think about that with the upcoming press conference. While the harried brunette raced from the bathroom to change, Jane couldn't help noticing that Maura had been conspicuously absent. Even with the early hour, her girlfriend was always punctual and enjoyed being one of the first to arrive every-day; it was unusual for her not to be present, especially so because of the upcoming press conference. _I can't blame her for not being more supportive when I've been such a big fat jerk to her lately. The last thing I deserve is her compassion._ Jane knew how much her inability to return the love that Maura continued to give was affecting their relationship but knowledge didn't help her own inner turmoil. It wasn't her lack of love that was the problem; it was the communication barrier between them that seemed to get bigger and bigger with each passing day. Jane. Her miserable looking reflection stared back at her as Jane suddenly understood that despite the love she felt for Maura, it was unfair to keep hurting her like this. _Something has to change. I know that I can be a bit of a brute at times when it comes to her feelings but I have to make an effort to try to be more open. The only alternative is spending the rest of my nights alone, again._

Jane sighed as resignation filled her heart. Making Maura happy made her happy as a result. It was going to be hard to give her girlfriend intimate access to feelings that she kept tightly locked up but if it made Maubie happy, she would do it. _Relationships are all about compromise and lately, all I've been doing is asking her to carry all of the weight while I sit around brooding like Agent Dean._ With a laugh of amusement at the idea of her taking brooding lessons from Dean, her hands went inside of her pocket to find a small folded note of good-luck written on expensive stationary paper. Her eyes looked over it briefly, bringing a smile of amusement to her face, before grabbing the remnants of muffin and coffee along with her wrinkled mass of clothes. It always marveled Jane how Maura could manage to care so much, even after the way she had been treating her recently. _If I had just an inkling of that compassion…things would be a lot different._

Another detective from Vice walked in to the restroom, heading toward the standing urinals near where Jane was standing, disgust soon taking the place of the love she felt toward her girlfriend's actions. "Umm, excuse me."

The young detective turned around from his task of unzipping his fly with tired confusion. "Hey, come on, Rizzoli. The men's bathroom downstairs is closed, making this one the only one available."

"Can't you hold it?" Jane asked with a slight growl, glaring at the detective as his hands continued to unzip further. "Or, here's a great idea, go into a stall?"

"Aren't we all brothers in arms, Rizzoli? Together we stand united and all of that mumbo-jumbo they spit out during the academy? Brothers should have no problems with seeing their family relieve themselves. Give me a break; just turn that pretty head of yours around if it offends you so much." He drawled with an obvious Southern accent, winking slightly before taking in Jane's dress uniform. "You must have press duty today because I know they aren't giving Ms. Big-Fat-"Can't Keep Her Opinions to Herself"-Rizzoli a recommendation ceremony. Good-luck."

The sound of urine hitting the porcelain receptacle caused Jane to roll her eyes in annoyance, turning away from her fellow detective. "You know what? I'll just leave because it's obviously _so hard_ for a grown man to zip himself back up, walk three feet, and use the bathroom in a stall. You Vice guys are just full of good manners, aren't you? Thanks for the luck, by the way."

With a casual wave, Jane left the bathroom to be immediately accosted with small nods of good-luck from the homicide detectives who had come in early to watch the press conference together and give Jane some much needed support. Everyone was hoping for the best, including Jane. If the press conference went well, the killer would be recognized for his actions, thus hopefully inclining him to hopefully spend a little bit more time planning the next chapter in his sick, twisted story. With more time came an increased chance for the team to catch him before he could strike again. _And that's all we need, time._ However, in the worst case scenario, Jane's gamble would end up making the killer too confident in his abilities, resulting in less time to solve the case before the final murder. As much as she wanted nothing more to spend the day processing the obscure messages written with the victims, the brunette understood the importance to play the game with serials. All they wanted was attention and Jane had every attention to give it to this sick bastard.

Setting down her slightly folded wrinkled clothes, the brunette headed toward the elevator in order to reach the conference room used for official press events on the fifth floor of BPD. As the elevator began the slow ascent, Jane took out her phone to call Korsak. Before the second ring could sound on her end, he picked up with brightness to his voice that surprised the detective.

"You sound awful cheery for only getting seven hours sleep," she mocked playfully, knowing he was just as exhausted as she was. They had been running on all cylinders for three days now. The homicide department might be good but they weren't invincible.

"Actually it was closer to six," his voice clear and vibrant through the slight static of the reception, "since me and Frost stayed up a little longer after we all left operations. You must have been real tired though."

Jane's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "I could have used a little bit more sleep… What's your point?"

"Maura came in last night, asking if we could help move you downstairs. She said you passed out in exhaustion which didn't surprise me since you've been taking lead on this case and went undercover at that club last night. I'd rather have you pass out in the squad room than during Q-and-A with the press." Korsak said with a slight laugh before becoming serious. "You alright? Working with the press can be even more exhausting than going undercover. Last thing I want is you falling out in the middle of answering questions."

Shock ran through her veins as Korsak's words processed in her mind. _Oh my god, I fell asleep? The last thing I remember was pushing Maura against the wall…shit, I fell asleep on my girlfriend, in the middle of having sex, in the operations room of BPD. Well, it's official. I'm a jack-ass of the highest order. That's probably why I haven't seen Maura because she's too embarrassed to even look at me without laughing or quoting some statistic concerning performance anxiety and stress levels._

"Yeah, I'm fine, just looking to get this over and done with. Did," Jane's voice caught in her throat before she could continue, "Maura say anything last night, about my…tiredness?"

The sergeant made a small quizzical sound as he thought back to last night. "Nope, but when we got her in her office, she seemed really worried about you, Jane. You didn't hear it from me, but I think it hurts her to see you like this. I don't want to get in you guys' business, it's just…I haven't seen Maura look like that since…ever."

_I'm such a jerk and now everyone else is starting to see it. _"Yeah, well, uh…thanks for telling me, Korsak. I got to go. We'll talk later. Keep following up with the case while I'm appealing to the press."

"Good-luck, Jane. You'll knock 'em dead."

"Thanks," she smiled, hanging up on her end just as the elevator dinged twice to announce her arrival on the fifth floor, the location of the press conference. With confident steps, Jane pushed back the anxiety of what happened last night with Maura to the back of her mind for later examination and readied for a busy half-hour with the press. Lieutenant Cavanaugh stood near the side of the small stage, waiting for his subordinate to approach in order to address the room filled with anxious reporters and news outlet representatives. Also dressed to impress, Cavanaugh's medals and regalia gleamed in the artificial lights of the conference room.

"You get some sleep?" he asked dismissively, hardly expecting an answer as his eyes swept the large crowd.

Jane finished the remnants of her muffin and coffee, throwing the trash into a waste-bin near the stage. "Enough."

"Good," he replied, turning his head to appraise the detective's appearance, "you're going to need it. I suggested to the mayor to mostly invite local media outlets to this circus but he's clearly decided to ignore my suggestion. Apparently he thought the idea of a female lead homicide detective addressing public concerns toward the possibility of a serial killer on Boston streets to the national media gave a better PR slant. You ready?"

Jane turned away from the Loo, taking out the small note that Maura had written her. Her positive words giving the brunette another surge of confidence: _**Bonne chance, mon amour.**_** You'll be great today. No one can stop my Jeddy-Bear when she's on a roll. P.S. – I know you said not to use your nick-name, but it's just so cute, I can't help myself.** Leave it to Maura to know exactly what to say, no matter how idiotic it came out. _She always knows what to say, what I need. It's time that I show her some of the same._

Putting the note back in her pocket, Jane turned back to the Loo with a nervous smile. "Ready as I'll ever be. Now, let's get this charade out of the way so I can get back to catching this guy."

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*

_His shocking red hair bobbed in time with the music coming from his expensive computer audio software, typing quickly with self-assured elegant fingers. The classical rhythms of Claude Debussy's third movement of Suite Bergamasque, "Clair de Lune", traveling on the air of the office brought a smile across his sculpted features. As the music swept into his soul, his eyes closed, memories of a better time in the snow-covered streets of Soviet Russia taking the red-haired man's focus away from sending countless emails to the members of the company._

_ During the endless days of learning, practicing, and memorizing of being a student at the Vaganova Academy in St. Petersburg, he had to give everything up to follow his only opportunity to be something other than a poor accountant like his father. Nothing could ever possibly describe the excitement of learning he was chosen to be a potential object of pride for the Russian people, made even better by his sister's acceptance, as well. Throughout their childhood, the two siblings were twins in their looks, personalities, and desires which hardly changed upon their admittance to the Vaganova Academy. _

_ They were inseparable, in spirit and in skill. Because of their unique rapport, Matryona was frequently partnered with him to perform _pas de deux _which became their trademark in the academy and in the future. Before they had even graduated from the academy, several companies had competed for their talents, but Mariinski, the star achievement to a Russian dancer, won in the end. Rising through the ranks with a level of speed that was unheard of at their age, Matryona and her brother were principals within two years of joining the ballet company. People from all over the world came to see the two of them perform in their primary repertoire; "Ondine", "Cinderella", "The Sleeping Beauty", "Romeo and Juliet", "Scheherazade", and even "Swan Lake", to name just a few of their legendary performances together. Very rarely did they dance separately, until Matryona began wanting to explore more opportunities abroad in order to further her skill as an artist. He had refused to leave Mariinski, seeing no reason to explore other opportunities with inferior companies, and his sister refused to stay, claiming boredom._

_ That was the last time he saw his sister as he wanted to remember her, stubborn and determined to do what she wanted. In her absence, his dancing was pure precision but it lacked the brilliance that had developed with him and Matryona's performances together. She was the fire to his icy focus on technique; without her, he was just good but not great. As his requests for solo performances dwindled, he was demoted to the corps, the lowest rank for a dancer in the company, while his sister increased her renown across the world. It killed him to see his sister, whose skill had always been inferior, surpass him. Frustration at his own inability to succeed evolved into overwhelming hate at the woman he had once loved like his own reflection. It hardly helped his miserable mood to receive endless letters from Matryona about a female contemporary soloist she was smitten with. Every letter began with "Ekaterina" and ended with "Isn't Ekaterina just marvelous?" as if the woman was Aphrodite incarnate. When his sister was awarded the honorary title of prima ballerina absoluta, Matryona's only response was that Ekaterina thought the title an anachronism. Even now with the passage of time, his bushy red eyebrows lowered in annoyance at this complete lack of respect toward tradition. She wasn't only better than him, but she also had to fall in love with _a woman _with little respect for the ways of old? It wasn't fair. But this all was irrelevant after hearing that she was sick and unable to dance. The next time he saw his sister, three years after she left, was being shipped back to Russia in quarantine like a sick animal all because of that damn temptress Ekaterina. When Matryona died, Ekaterina was conspicuously not present. He had to deal with his parents' inane questions and the doctors who seemed more in awe of being in the presence of a _prima absoluta_ over healing her, alone._

_ Debussy's calming tones changed into the mood appropriate sounds of "Adagio for Strings", the closed blue eyes welling with tears that always managed to come, despite the passing years since Matryona's death. The days following both her private and state funeral were nothing but a blur of depression-induced haze. The old idiom that concerning missing things once they were gone, applied to him during those days perfectly. Nothing mattered anymore; he quit dancing with Mariinski, cut off ties with his family, and left Russia to work as an assistant choreographer for a small American classical ballet company that his sister had once attended. The only reason he accepted the job was because it represented a way to keep some kind of connection to his sister alive. As his involvement in American ballet companies increased, leading to his current position with the Boston Ballet, the depression that had weighed over his existence eased into manageable territory. For the first time since the death of his sister, he had the focus to see where the blame lay concerning Matryona. Ekaterina and everything she represented caused his sister's untimely death._

_ The song ended, leaving nothing but silence to accompany the beautifully severe man as his furious typing continued, uninterrupted. His mesmerizing eyes reopened reluctantly, slowly taking in his unchanged office and the television near his desk. The television was rarely used except to watch performances of dancers but it was still of extremely high quality compared to his television at home. But today was a special occasion. Grabbing the remote, he turned it on and changed the station to a press conference featuring the same detective that came by earlier. What was her name…June Ravoli? No, that wasn't it but it hardly mattered. She wouldn't catch him and even if she did, it hardly mattered. Those last two girls were nothing more than his final transition into the _coda_, his final act toward getting his final revenge for Matryona. After he was complete, he neither needed nor wanted any sort of recognition for his actions. He would have Matryona's eternal love and gratitude. Nothing else is needed but the knowledge that he, Matryona, and her devious lover could reunite._

_ Swiping elegant fingers through perpetually messy red locks, he grabbed his phone and dialed a number that he knew far too well. She would be expecting his call. He had spent months building a rapport with the woman and, surprisingly, she remained oblivious to his connections to her past but no matter. She'd soon know._

_ "Ekaterina," he said invitingly, his eyes darkening as his unoccupied hand played with his hair. "It's Yuri Grigorvich. I was wondering if you would like to get lunch before your practice for 'Don Quixote' tonight."_

_ A small voice answered on the other end of the line. "The restaurant? It's not far. In fact, let me take you to my place, instead. It's closer to us both and I have to be the only man in Boston that knows what proper vodka tastes like, not this watered swill they call vodka in America…yes, I know where that is. I am on my way out of the office, right now."_

_ Detective Jane Rizzoli's face stared attractively out at Yuri's relaxed body as if taunting him to continue with his actions. He ignored her meaningless taunt, turning off the television for one last time. Even if he wanted to stop, there was no time. Matryona was waiting for them both._

*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*!*


	13. Brush Fire

Wednesday, 12:55 P.M.

Jane waited for the elevator to take her back down to the homicide unit, excitement recharging her batteries. The press conference went well; none of the reporters asked any questions that would have created a great sound-bite to embarrass the BPD and everyone seemed willing to ignore that the hastily put together press conference was instigated by the Boston Daily's sensationalized morning headline. Despite the bright lights and the pressure of being put on display for the public, Jane felt as if she handled the situation appropriately.

Each lighted number of the various floors slowly passed with no hurry, ignoring the anxious detective bouncing on the balls of her feet while releasing herself from the suffocating grip of Jane's dress jacket. The dinging of lowering floors brought Jane back to her main priority, getting this serial killer off the streets. She had purposefully left out some details to the public regarding the reasonably high risk of losing the serial because of the lack of time but it was a necessary risk she had to take. _Playing a gamble with the press is risky, but I know I can catch this guy before my gamble comes back and bites me in the ass. If anyone can do it, it's me._ A final ding of arrival echoed through the small space and Jane slipped through the doors before they could even open fully, focused on nothing but returning back to her case.

Before she could return back to her desk unnoticed, Korsak and Frost stepped into Jane's way with proud smiles. "Who knew Jane was so photogenic, Frost? For someone who hates wearing her dress blues, she looks awfully nice in them." Korsak joked toward his ex-partner, ignoring the woman's look of extreme irritation upon being blocked.

Frost, sensing the playful mood coming from Korsak, followed suit with the ribbing, eyebrows rising in mock surprise. "I totally agree. Maybe she'd look into making a career change? It'd be big news to have a homicide detective turn into a model…like America's Next Top Model!"

Rolling their eyes together at the young African-American detective, Jane and Korsak proceeded to walk off toward their desks, leaving Frost baffled by their responses. "Come on," he pleaded, breaking off slightly as the other detectives in the squad room stared at him with a chuckle before walking to their desks. "It was a joke…I mean, not like a joke regarding your attractiveness, Jane, but like that you'd be a model. Not to say that you couldn't be a model, though. You know what I mean, right?"

"No," Jane deadpanned, turning back to give her partner an icy stare, "I don't. Please tell me we have something new with this case. Actually, anything remotely helpful would bring a smile to my face."

Just as Jane got back to her desk, Cavanaugh came from his office to address the entire squad. In response to his sudden appearance, her guard came up as her mind quickly processed all of the potential reasons why the Lieutenant would decide to show his face. _Damn it, what is it now?_ Motioning toward Korsak to announce Cavanaugh's arrival, she took off the dress jacket and slung it across her unused chair, turning back to the Loo. Judging from his deep frown, she knew immediately that whatever he was going to say wouldn't be good if he felt the need to address the entire unit.

"The mayor has asked me to congratulate the homicide unit and, in particular, Jane Rizzoli for showcasing the department to the public in a dignified manner." Cavanaugh said, ignoring the eye-roll of annoyance from Jane. "But the feds feel as if it would be in their best interest to get involved in this case. And before _some of you_ get on my back, I tried to go to bat for this unit, but the feds have more juice. You know that and I know that."

Jane's hands clinched in frustration, her eyebrows furrowing. "This is my case, sir."

"I know that, detective. Trust me, I know," he said, voice rising in response to Jane's tone. "That's why I requested that my unit have another couple of days to work this case before getting the feds involved. They promised me they would remain hands-off, but I wouldn't be surprised if we end up having differing definitions of how many days constitute a couple. I want everyone working this case as priority one, no exceptions. My experience with the feds tells me that they'll ignore their promise if they sense an opportunity to get their claws into an opportunity to take the glory. Jane, you're still running point on this case. I want this guy off the streets; preferably with my men taking him in. Get to work."

With little fanfare, the Lieutenant left the homicide detectives to return back to his office. Jane watched him go, feeling a level of respect for her Lieutenant that surprised her. She'd been through her share of commanders, both good and bad, but he was one of the first to actually respect her decisions as an experienced detective and not because of the amount of juice she did or didn't have. Not only had Cavanaugh allowed her to be lead on this case since the beginning but, even now, he was endorsing her continued efforts to work it until the feds got involved. _He's putting his trust in me to get this guy, the public is now going to be expecting to see someone they can throw their blame on, and I need to prove to myself that I can handle this level of pressure. Everything is dependent on me, time to get to work._

"Alright, we don't have much time on our hands to work this case so we're going to have to push hard. We believe the killer will have one more death based off of the messages he leaves at the scenes in the victims' blood. Based off the previous victims' timelines, that gives us about 24 hours to find some kind of connection to nail this guy." Jane commanded to her other detectives, taking a brief breath before continuing. "Korsak, bring everyone up to speed on this case. Frost, start looking at those messages. I'm going to change back into some normal clothes and check up on CSU to determine where they are with our evidence."

"You're going to harass the techies again, aren't you?" Frost asked with a smile.

"I find that it makes them work faster." Jane said, grabbing her folded yet wrinkled clothes from last night off her desk. "Call me if something breaks."

*!*!*!*!*!*!*

After taking a couple of minutes to change, the harried detective moved with long strides toward the CSU, hoping to pressure them into rushing their evidence from last night. Even though she remembered Maura saying something about an officer involved shooting that had taken the techies attention, Jane had the Lieutenant on her side. _If his juice can't make these MIT graduates work a little faster, then I don't know what will._

As Jane was picking up speed, Maura walked out of her office, colliding directly into the detective's path. With a yell of frustration, Jane stopped in her tracks. "What are you doing?"

"I work here?" the chief medical examiner asked quizzically. "Should I be somewhere else? I guess I could set up an office in the elevator since that's where I've been spending most of my time lately, but I don't think that would be very conducive to thorough autopsy results."

"Maura…" Jane growled, failing to keep the building anger over the events of the last couple of days in check. "You know what I mean. Why aren't you autopsying or trying to find a lead in this case? I've been working my ass of trying to find a way to get this guy and you're just walking around? Come on, are you serious?"

Maura's body tensed in response to Jane's tone, hands coming across her chest as she returned Jane's frustration back at her. "Why do you insist on doing this, Jane? Do you honestly think I'm just sitting around, staring at the walls, and not trying to help out? I want this serial off the streets just as much as you do and I've been working just as hard as you to find something to connect this guy back to the artistic director. Just because I don't become obsessed with my cases and lose focus of anything that doesn't directly relate back to said cases, doesn't mean I don't care or I'm not working as hard as you, Jane. Sometimes I don't think you realize how much your actions hurt people." Suddenly, a group of CSU techies came out from across the hallway, laughing happily about something or other, ignoring the two women as they got onto the elevator.

Speechless, Jane tried to come up with a clever response before realizing the truth of Maura's statement. _She's right…I lose perspective when I get on a case like this. It's never been a problem before now because I've never had anyone but myself to worry about. Now that I'm with Maura, I can't be so self-involved, unless I'm prepared to lose the only thing that means this much to me. _

"I'm sorry, for everything," she muttered, wanting nothing more to lower her head in shame but, with a herculean effort, kept her saddened eyes on Maura's heated glare. "And I know that sorry doesn't mean much when I've said it as much as I have but I genuinely mean it. I've been a jerk to you, lately; but I want, no need, to change for…us, our relationship. But, this is neither the time nor the place to talk about this." Jane calmed her nerves with a deep sigh. "So, why are you coming out of your office?"

"Umm…" Maura mumbled in surprise upon hearing her girlfriend's sudden admission before her earlier enthusiasm returned, her hands moving of their own accord. "CSU finished analyzing the evidence from the two victims from last night. By the way, nearly all of the investigators hate me. They hate being rushed and I can't blame them-"

"Then fire them after this case is over and get new techies to boss around. They're replaceable. I'm not." Jane interrupted. "What do you got?"

Beckoning the detective into her office, Maura returned back to her office and Jane followed right behind her girlfriend's heels. After closing the door, she sat across from the blonde on her comfortable couch near the hallway facing window. As anxious as Jane was to keep busy with the serial case, the brunette was glad to see her girlfriend, regardless of what the circumstances were of the meeting. Ordinarily, Jane would have been uncomfortable even sitting next to the blonde in a friendly manner at work, but the events of the past couple of days had made her more comfortable being with Maura. If she could survive going out with Maura's upper-crust elite friends as a couple, then what was the worst that could happen if they came out as a couple at work. Jane knew that there were no rules against interdepartmental affairs but Maura's position as chief medical examiner and her being a detective could be a potential issue. _I can't believe I'm thinking about this in the middle of a case. Wow, our relationship has grown a decade in a day, it feels like._

Maura opened the folder in her hand, taking her heels off to sit cross-legged in the lotus position, reflecting her love for yoga. "The bodies found the same level of concentration of atropine in each of the two victims. Their blood-alcohol content was extremely high for women of their size. I highly doubt that these women could have gotten away from their killer, Jane. Whether they were forced to drink this much or did it of their own volition, the victims would have been extremely truncated in their ability to defend themselves."

"So the victims were presumably wined and dined by the serial killer first and then taken somewhere where the killer felt comfortable enough to take his time with each of the women," Jane contemplated, putting together the practical elements of Maura's theoretical connection, "anything else?"

Maura nodded, flipping to another page in the folder. "As you know, all of the victims were dancers with connections to Boston Ballet. Well, I was looking at some of the pictures of the messages written over the bodies at the two crime scenes and you know what I figured out?"

Jane leaned in expectantly, their arms briefly touching, eliciting a barely audible sigh of pleasure from the two women. "Please, don't make me guess, honey."

"All of the victims, according to the records I got of their official website and my own knowledge of the company, are principals of the company, Jane. The messages on the walls next to the victims are all references to specific ballet productions. The first victim, Alina Bobrova, had the message: **The Beauty slumbers peacefully awaiting the kiss that will set her free amongst the Sin, **referencing the events of 'The Sleeping Beauty'. The last two victims, Irina Dotsenko and Natalia Gerasimova, had the messages: **Star-crossed lovers meet upon a balcony, their fate sealed with the kiss of time. No matter the thousands of tales spun by the loyal third, nothing could retell this tale of woe and tragedy. Hope lost, melancholy gained, **which is also a direct reference to the events of 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'Scheherazade'. Don't you see the connection?" Maura asked, grabbing her girlfriend excitedly by the arm. "Whoever the killer is, he has to work inside the company with extensive background knowledge of ballet. 'Scheherazade' hasn't been performed by Boston Ballet in years so, I did some digging, and I found out that the only company that has "Scheherazade" in their current repertoire is Mariinski, a ballet company in Russia. There's only one person, according to their roster, who has the knowledge and credentials to be able to get a principal to leave the stage for something trivial like getting a drink, Jane. Principals are extremely busy. Their entire lives revolve around the stage. When I was dancing, there were days when I didn't even see the sun. I highly doubt that any of our victims would have left the stage for a casual drink with just some random person off the street."

A moment passed as Maura caught her breath while Jane put together the connection that the medical examiner established in her head, making sure each fact fit correctly in the blonde's theory. "Who was it, Maura? Who was the only person who matched up?"

She looked down at the forgotten folder that had fallen between them in her excitement. "Yuri Grigorvich, the artistic director of the company who you've liked for these murders. Jane, he has access to any dancer he wants and they would all readily do anything he asks them to. An artistic director of a ballet company is like the father of the entire group. Everyone strives to impress the artistic director because he is the one who can make or break a dancer's career. I hate to assume but he has to be the killer. It's the only thing that logically makes sense based off the evidence." Maura said, taking a breath before gripping onto Jane's arm tighter. "Did I help?"

For the first time in days, a bright smile of pure joy crossed the brunette's face. _Maura really is a genius…and she's all mine._ A similar smile mirrored itself upon her girlfriend's face in response. "And you're all mine, Jane." She whispered, reading the detective's mind.

"How do you that?" she asked, inching ever closer to the relaxed medical examiner. "It's like you can read my mind…and I don't know if I like that."

Maura laughed, uncoiling her legs from their position before moving subconsciously toward the inviting lips of the detective. "I don't think you have much choice in the matter, Jeddy-Bear. Love changes people…makes them more open for interpretation, especially by the one they love."

"Mmm...You might be right, Maubie, because you are coming in loud and clear," Jane whispered back before her words broke off in sweet surrender to Maura's soft lips upon hers, igniting flames that had been carefully held in check. As the surprise of being seduced by her normally more submissive girlfriend wore off, it was replaced with the growing acceptance of Maura's sudden dominant side, helped by the sensation of her tongue asking for admittance into her closed mouth.

Before Jane could allow the eager blonde inside, her hands searched for more connection to the hardened flesh that she knew was underneath the expensive layers of fabric. Unhurried acceptance met with unhurried searching; the importance of time ignored with the growing importance of satisfying a need that had been festering since their spat on Monday. The preoccupied detective noticed as Maura pushed her down onto the couch that they were perilously exposed. The blinds were still open, the door was unlocked, and the door leading into the darkened autopsy room was even more wide open to anyone who happened to want to talk to the chief medical examiner. A door from the CSU office opened and closed, fear shooting a near lethal dosage into her veins, but all that was forgotten as Jane's shaking hands, frustrated at the slim access to the skin she so desperately craved, looked earnestly for another opening and finding it on the blonde's toned ex-dancer legs.

A surprised groan of delight came from Maura's lungs as Jane furiously clawed for an opening in the barrier separating the eager brunette from her main goal, at the moment. With an annoyed growl, Jane stopped her search, broke the live connection between their lips and looked up at her girlfriend.

"Maura…stop," she moaned, the sensation of the blonde's weight upon her lower extremities making it difficult to focus.

Maura shook her head out of the fog of lust that had descended over the both of them before, finally moving away from the blushing detective with obvious embarrassment.

"I…I don't know what came over me. I just," her voice cracked as she moved away from the still detective, her eyes lowered, "needed you so badly that I couldn't think straight. It was like I took some kind of a hallucinogenic drug. I don't understand how I can hate you so much one minute and want nothing more than your body the next. This feeling…defies all of my previous experience with men, Jane. I…don't know how to deal with this."

Jane moved toward Maura's crumpled frame, massaging the blonde with slow circles on her back. The blonde's eyes remained glued to the floor despite her efforts, confusion setting in as Jane moved away from the withdrawn woman. _What does she want from me?_ _God, please don't cry. If you cry, I'll cry, and I hate to cry almost as much as I hate seeing you cry, Maura._

As much as she wanted to stay to comfort her, Jane knew that she had spent too much time away from her current goal of getting Yuri off the streets before he killed again. "Hey, it's alright, honey. It's natural for you to react like that, you're my," she said before her throat closed, "girlfriend. At least you didn't fall asleep in the middle like I did last night. By the way, did I, now, don't laugh, but did I drool on you after I fell asleep? God, if I did, I'll never be able to live it down."

Maura's answering laugh brought a smile to both of their faces. "Yes, you did. But sialorrhea is usually related to a natural side-effect of sleeping on one's side with an excess production of saliva. It would be unfair of me to hold a medical condition against you for blackmail purposes, Jane. A proven solution to sialorrhea is sleeping on one's back, if you're truly concerned."

"Hmm…how could I ever learn to sleep on my back?" Jane asked, theatrically. "You could always tie me to the bed, offer up some positive reinforcement."

The medical examiner's frowned, her mind processing her girlfriend's words. "No, I think you mean that it would be negative punishment, because I'd be taking away your freedom to move during sleep, in order to decrease the unwanted behavior, in this case, your sialorrhea. But, I don't think that would work. You'd enjoy your punishment far too much, thus taking away the point." Maura's head nodded slightly, her eyebrows rising in curiosity. "I do know a sleep specialist from college who was basing her dissertation on the connection between common sleep ailments and gender. We could ask her to look into your problem for you?"

_Yeah…she'll be fine. _"Honey, I'm flattered, but the last thing I want is another woman trying to figure me out. Only you are allowed to do that. I got to go, but we'll talk later, alright? After we catch this guy, I promise you we'll do something together, just the two of us." Jane said with a smile, leaning over to give a quick romantic kiss full of possibilities for the future. Just as she began to move away, Maura's hands came up to frame her girlfriend's face, effectively taking away Jane's ability to leave. She could have pushed the weaker woman away, but Jane wanted nothing more than to remain lost in Maura's hazel eyes. A barely audible whine came from one of the two women, everything ceasing to exist.

"I'd like that," the blonde whispered, licking her lips subconsciously, issuing a purr from the enthralled brunette. "I'd like that a lot. If all goes well, we're having dinner at my place."

Jane's mind struggled to form a logical sentence even with Maura's heated gaze burning through her lame attempts to remain focused on anything but her presence. "What about…my mother?"

"We'll lock her in the guesthouse with food and water; tell her to watch Bass or something." Maura deadpanned with a playful wink, releasing Jane from her gaze. _Oh my god, she's serious…New Maura, what happened to the old Maura? I'm a little scared and a lot excited. I'll gladly switch wardrobes with her if it means I can get more of this. _Jane laughed nervously, standing up, rushing toward the elevator and away from the potential negative influence that was horny Maura Isles. Her fingers pushed the down button with more force than was necessary, feeling her girlfriend's eyes on her with each passing second. Wanting nothing more than to turn around and determine if her girlfriend was checking her out, Jane ignored the impulse, gladly running into the open door of the elevator as it binged its arrival to the entire floor.

Silence covered the space as the elevator began slowly crawling up the various floors of BPD. The detective whisked away the sweat forming on her brow before calling her partner's cell, excitement obvious. "Frost, get everyone together, including Cavanaugh. We got this sonovabitch. He was right under our noses the whole time."


	14. Capture The Killer

Wednesday, 4:00 P.M.

For the first time in this case, Jane and her fellow detectives had a genuine suspect along with an understanding of the murders. Three Russian dancers visiting Boston Ballet were killed in a ritualistic manner over the course of the last couple of days. The only logical suspect had to be someone involved with the company who garnered respect; the only person who fit that bill was Yuri Grigorvich, the artistic director of Boston Ballet. Despite the lack of conclusive evidence that could be accepted in court, the Lieutenant had agreed to allow Jane to move forward and take Yuri into custody upon hearing the long-awaited connection between the victims and the bloody messages written on the walls. He wasn't happy about the lack of evidence but, in a case like this one where time was of the essence, the Loo was willing to forego in exchange for not missing an opportunity to catch a potential killer. To Jane, however, their lack of evidence was hardly a problem. _That's what interrogation is for, getting a confession when the evidence is circumstantial, at best. Yuri Grigorvich is our man, no doubts._

With the rest of her team, Jane had hastily put together a retrieval plan of the suspect. Her mother had gladly dropped off another suit for her to change into, taking her wrinkled clothes, the ruined dress Maura had lent her, and her dress blues. Outfitted in her second skin, Jane began to get started. After calling his assistant, it was determined that Yuri had left several hours ago to have lunch. The assistant was unsure of where exactly the man had gone or could be located, but Jane used her experience as a homicide detective to conclude that Yuri was probably at his apartment, holed up with another victim. _He wants to finish his story so he's going to kill again and soon. BPD's press conference may have slowed him down but I highly doubt he's going to jump ship so late in the game._ Ignoring the idiotic ramblings of the nervous assistant, Jane commanded the young man to tell her where the apartment was. After discovering that it was near both the school and Opera House, the team took a brief couple of minutes to formulate a plan to secure the main entrance of the building and prepare for Yuri Grigorvich's capture. Jane, Korsak, and Frost would take the point while the other detectives would flank the building, making sure the artistic director had no probable escape route. Checking her belt for her trusty Glock, gold shield, radio, and handcuffs; Jane signaled to begin the operation.

Yuri Grigorvich's condo was a penthouse suite; the only one occupied on the top floor. In order to not create unnecessary suspicion, the three detectives entered the condo complex separately, agreeing to meet up on the top floor together. Jane's entrance was unwatched, the doorman's station left unoccupied as she waited for the elevator to reach the bottom floor. Her brown eyes remained alert, searching the empty space for the slightest hint of potential threats. A whoosh of air announced the arrival of the elevator and Jane walked into the small confined space confidently; pushing the top floor button before a young man in running gear caught the elevator before the doors could close fully. Jane evaluated his presence, covering the tools of her trade with her suit jacket.

"Floor?" Jane asked distractedly.

The gasping man lifted five fingers weakly and Jane nodded, pushing the small button for the fifth floor. The elevator began to rise upward, leaving her with nothing to do but try to remain oblivious to the sputtering man next to her who looked near death.

Before she could stop, however, Jane's cop instincts kicked in, causing her to look over at the man with slight concern. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," he sputtered, gathering himself to his full height, looking over at the detective for the first time. "I'm training for the Boston Marathon. I don't normally do marathons but my girlfriend loves it. She says it'll be good for our relationship to experience the pain together."

Jane chuckled at the sudden memories of Maura's successful attempt to do the same thing with her last year. "It's not that bad."

The elevator was now nearing the fifth floor, preparing to stop. "Your boyfriend likes to run too? Are you two running this year? Can you believe they changed the course again so now the runners have to go over Heartbreak Hill twice? I can barely get over it once, nonetheless, twice."

"No," she said nonchalantly as the elevator opened, allowing the man to step out before looking back at the brunette, "my girlfriend and I aren't probably going to run this year, but after what happened last year, I wouldn't be surprised if she demanded our participation. Hopefully not, though. I can't stand running."

The door closed shut, his reply lost as Jane's mind refocused back to Yuri Grigorvich. Several seconds passed and finally, the elevator reached the penthouse floor with another whoosh of released air. Near the door at the end of the lighted hallway, Korsak and Frost waited expectantly with questioning looks.

"Sorry, civilian got on with me," she whispered, reaching her fellow detectives with long strides, "any activity inside the condo?"

Korsak shook his head, motioning the two other detectives near the wall in case of unexpected gunfire. It was just a precaution but a necessary one given that the suspect was a serial with a high probability of a victim inside. Like a squirrel, Yuri's potential future actions were unknown to the detectives upon his apprehension. He could go quietly or try to perform some kind of desperation move but Jane hoped for the former. Nodding to Korsak, she grabbed her gun from its holster, awaiting the unknown expectantly.

Korsak knocked on the door and it was opened by their prime suspect in the flesh, Yuri Grigorvich, looking completely at ease with the situation. His red eyebrows were raised slightly at the unusualness of seeing Detective Korsak at his door, but everything else about his elegant style was the same as their first meeting. Dressed in a plain black leotard, pointe shoes, and a hastily thrown on pair of sweatpants, Yuri seemed more like a dutiful dancer than a deranged serial killer, but Jane kept her guard up. _The guy is an asshole of the highest order. Just because he has expensive clothes and toned legs, doesn't change anything. He killed those women, violated them._

Korsak introduced himself, allowing Jane to peer behind the door-frame to determine if a body was present. _No bodies noticeable from the entrance. The place is immaculate, but, on the other hand, the guy doesn't have much to get cluttered in the first place. What's with rich people and minimalism?_ Jane signaled with her hands that there was nothing of notice within the condo from her point of view and Frost issued the same signal from his side of the door-frame, as well.

"So," Yuri said, stopping briefly as if testing the air like a cat before continuing. "Why are you here, Detective Korsak…and company? You can come out now, Ms. Rizzoli and Mr. Frost. I'd have to be dead not to notice the two of you signaling to each other like we're in some kind of action film."

Frost and Jane got up from their hiding positions, joining Korsak. "You're a suspect in the murders of Alina Bobrova, Irina Dotsenkaya, and Natalia Gerasimova. We have a warrant for your arrest."

Yuri's eyebrows lowered, a brief flash of boiling fury breaking through the mask of civility, but as quick as it arrived, it disappeared as his control took back over. His darkened focus moved from Korsak to Jane with the blink of an eye, another challenge subconsciously set by the dancer to the detective. Her body tensed, wanting nothing more than to throw his challenge back in his face. _He's not going to go down without a fight when we interrogate him. He's already starting to test me and we haven't even arrested him yet._

An exhausted sigh came from the man's lips, lifting his hands in surrender. "There is no need to look so abrasive, detectives. I'm hardly going to run away like some convicted felon since I have done nothing wrong. Isn't that how the court system in America works, innocent until proven guilty? You have yet to prove my guilt, detectives. Even my youngest dancers know that they have to complete the most basic plié before moving into the grand plié; it is a natural progression that must be followed. But, who knows, maybe you do understand progression and have evidence that proves the guilt you all seem so ready to assume as truth. I highly doubt that, though. Americans are always so utterly backwards with the most basic of concepts."

"Korsak?" Jane asked, frustration seeping from her tensed frame.

"Yes, Detective?"

"Read him his rights and take him to the car." She said with an obvious eye-roll, grabbing onto Yuri's strong shoulder to move him forward. "I'm tired of hearing this guy's voice. If he keeps talking, I don't know what I'll do but I'm pretty sure it's going to involve my hands and his face."

Frost smiled before helping Korsak cuff Yuri to take him downstairs. Grabbing the radio at her hip in order to call Cavanaugh, Jane began to follow the detectives out after closing his door. "We got him. He's going willingly besides running his mouth. There's no body in his condo from what I can tell but without a search warrant, I can't go any further unless he allows us entrance and I highly doubt that is going to happen. We're going to have to sweat him in the box, if we want to get anywhere with this guy."

Jane sighed and shuddered at the possibility of being in a confined space with Yuri Grigorvich. Shaking her head, the brunette motioned to the stairs. "You guys can head down. I want to take the stairs. I think if I'm within arm's length of this guy, I might do something I'll regret."


	15. Rumble In The Boston Jungle

Wednesday, 7:45 P.M.

Nearly an hour of watching Yuri Grigorvich gaze at the three detectives with a meditative air had passed before Jane had made the executive decision to do rotations instead of their current plan of having all three of them in there with him. Using hour-long blocks, she was sure that they could break him into giving up a confession. _Or, at the very least, give up a word…the guy has been silent this entire time. Invoking the Fifth is one thing, but it's kind of hard to interrogate someone who's not receptive. We have to keep trying though. If I can just get him talking about himself, I know he'll make a mistake._ As she opened the door to the interrogation room, Jane knew she had to find something to use that would get that mistake to present itself. The silent man had shown her the kinks in his armor several times already, now it was all about taking advantage of those weaknesses.

Yuri's eyes remained closed, her entrance gaining nothing but a slightly noticeable flutter of his red eyebrows. All remained still as Jane stood motionless, scrutinizing the flexible man as he continued to sit cross-legged in the chair, his limbs tapping out a rhythm only known by him. _Music and ballet, he clearly has a strong connection to those two things…let's start with that since the direct approach of asking him about the murders, clearly isn't going to get me anywhere._

Moving over to the control for the air-conditioning in the interrogation room, Jane turned the air off, clanging filling the space briefly as the ventilation reluctantly shut down. Heat immediately began to settle into the room as the cool air gradually began to seep away. It had been awhile since she had used this technique during an interrogation but she had to use anything to get an advantage with this guy. If that meant literally sweating the confession out of him, then so be it. Yuri opened his eyes at the sudden loss of the blasting air-conditioning, pupils dilating in response to Jane's actions.

Walking over to the chair opposite the red-haired man, Jane sat down and casually relaxed her arms and legs. "Sorry about that. My boss hates when we waste energy. He claims it's because of the money, budget-cuts and all that."

His answering silence was complete, showing no signs of lifting. Jane ignored the complete silence, continuing onward. "But I'm sure you don't know anything about that, do you? I mean, come on, an artistic director has money coming out of his ass with all of the dignitaries that give you donations and what not. I bet you can afford to run the air-conditioning in those studios all day if you wanted, huh?"

For the first time since they started interrogating him, Yuri's eyes opened, revealing navy-blue irises that looked curiously at the brunette detective. "Yes, I guess so. Money is not my problem. My job is to lead, not to ponder the miniscule details of the company."

"I understand," she said with a knowing nod, struggling to keep up the friendly charade, earnestly looking for an opening she could exploit. "How did you get to be an artistic director, anyway? Someone with your obvious talent should be dancing on the stage, not directing others."

Yuri's eyes subconsciously drifted to the side for a fraction of a second before returning his focus back to Jane. _Gotcha, Mr. Grigorvich_. "I don't know why it would interest you, but I moved from Russia in my late-twenties to work as a choreographer for a small dancing company in the States. They were badly in need of some quality instruction and I needed to get away. I kept moving around to different companies for a couple of years until I ended up in Boston."

"Couldn't find the shoe that fit, could you?"

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, Yuri looked away. "I'm not very good with your American idioms, but yes, I guess I couldn't find the shoe that fit for my skills. Far too many American dancers are used to being coddled, unduly praised, and loved for the smallest glimmer of talent. It's sickening given that most of them lack the discipline to properly manifest that talent into skill."

"And that's the only reason why you constantly floating from company to company?" Jane released a hearty laugh, causing the crimson haired gentleman to flinch in shock. "I didn't know you were so trivial. You sure you didn't leave because you'd broken too many hearts?"

For a second time, his eyes twitched uncomfortably away from Jane. _I'm heading in the right direction, that's a start._ "I am hardly what you would call a playboy, Ms. Rizzoli. My life revolves around my dancers and providing them with the best environment to showcase their skills. When would I have the time to obsess over a woman, in the middle of the night, staring into her window from my balcony? Is this not what Americans call 'creeping'?"

"Come on…I'm sure some dancers have been able to maintain relationships while still retaining their level of skill. What about Alina?" Jane asked, taking out a folder and placing a picture of the first victim's face on the table. "You said she was a bit of a party-girl but still managed to be a great dancer, regardless."

"I never said it was impossible," Yuri's mask slowly beginning to fall away as his words got progressively more emotional. "Many of dancers can compartmentalize their personal life from their dancing and lead productive relationships but it is extremely difficult. The strain it creates on a ballerina's ability to properly enthuse the emotional ranges of a character can lead to lackluster performances, resulting in expulsion from the company. No dancer who respects their craft would ever sully it by involving themselves with another person. It's incredibly rude to the tradition of ballet, the audience, and the company to not give everything in the portrayal of a character. It is the ultimate impropriety."

Jane raised her eyebrows as Yuri drove his hand through his hair in anxiety. She had clearly struck a nerve and decided to use it as her opening into the withdrawn man before he clammed up again. "Sounds like you have first-hand experience."

His eyes closed in memory, a single line of sweat marring his perfect ice-cold features. "My sister…died because of a stupid infatuation with a woman who didn't even love her enough to come to her funeral so, yes, I have firsthand experience."

The brunette's body tensed in response to this unexpected fact. She had expected nothing more than witty repartee to make her lose focus but certainly not this. Moving her chair closer to the table, Jane leaned slightly forward to show that he had her attention. "I'm sorry for your loss. How did she die?"

"She didn't die yesterday, detective, so there's no reason to waste your pity on a man who has since moved on." He said dismissively, ignoring her slight frown at his rudeness. "Officially, Matryona died of cardiac arrest, but I know it was because of a broken heart. She couldn't dance with her love and gave up on life like a weakling. That damn Ekaterina… She came and took my dearest sister's heart and blinded her so she knew nothing else but her devilish influence. Love is nothing but another instrument of evil to a ballet dancer. It detracts from the brilliance of the artist, makes them susceptible to whims that are unbecoming of an elite dancer."

Ignoring her impulses to wait, Jane leaned in even further, hoping to scare the now talkative man to confess. "Is that why you killed Alina, Irina, and Natalia, Yuri? They fell in love with something other than the stage and it killed you to see them turning into your sister, making the same mistake. Those women you killed, they represent your sister. That's why you dyed their hair red, ripped out their hearts, and blinded them. So they wouldn't turn into your sister, to protect them."

Despite his earlier anxiety, Yuri's face closed itself off from Jane, his eyes becoming dark with self-contained fury. He was angry but he was directing that anger internally instead of externally which meant Jane was stuck with nothing to exploit further. _Damn it,_ _I pushed him way too soon. _

Jane struggled to retain control as he leaned forward toward the detective with the same piercing eyes that she had seen upon their first meeting together at the Opera House. They captured her attention, made it incredibly hard to focus, and mesmerized the detective like no other suspect or perpetrator had before. Liquid fear pumped into her immobile frame as each second passed with his stare locked on to her rapidly weakening one. Unlike before, there was nothing here for him to focus his gaze on but the detective; Jane knew that someone as manipulative as him understood this critical fact. _I can't escape…_

"Detective," Yuri whispered, their eyes continuing to duel for power, "I thought you were different than the old man who has had far too many rich sugars in his diet and the black man who's far too overzealous in proving his worth. You were the only one who bothered talking to me like I am a human and not a suspect you have no grounds to retain in your custody. I guess it was far too much to expect you to be different from all of those others. I'll hand it to you, Ms. Detective Jane Rizzoli, you are fantastically better looking than most women I deal with on a daily basis, but you're just as stupid. I refuse to talk to people like you because I find your stupidity to be contagious. Please…leave me alone, detective."

In response to his efforts to take control from her, Jane growled, attempting to release herself from his gaze. Frustration took the place of fear and, with a surprising amount of speed; the angered brunette reacted to the Yuri's hold on her by lifting her hands from underneath the table, grabbing the collar of the black leotard, nearly ripping it with her level of intensity. The world around her lost focus as his pupils dilated in response to Jane's rebuttal of his attempt to take away control. Her thoughts were nothing but flashes of words and colors, nothing more important than finally teaching Yuri Grigorvich that she was the boss. _I'm not one of his dancers that he can just give scraps of affection whenever it best suits him. If he thinks I'm going to back down, then he can forget about it because I never give in, never._

"You're such a child, Jane." He groaned, sweat running down his brow as he continued to assert his authority over the detective.

"And you're a serial killer, Yuri." Jane growled in response, tightening her hold on the lithe dancer's leotard, wishing she could just move the table between them for just one second. "Now that we have that out of the way, I'd really appreciate it if you just confessed."

His piercing blue eyes darted away from Jane's eyes in submission, with a powerful shove, the detective pushed him back to his seat. "You have no evidence. Keep hounding me all night, if you have the time, but, in all honesty, shouldn't you be spending your time looking for the real murderer of my dancers? When the serial killer strikes again, you'll be kicking yourself for not focusing your attentions elsewhere."

Jane got up, grabbed the strewn about photos, and walked confidently toward the door of the interrogation room. "Maybe, but I like to live in the present, Mr. Grigorvich. And, right now, at this exact moment, I'd like to kick _you_ in the face, several times. But, I'm not going to do that. You know why? Because I'm going to find the evidence I need that's going to put you away for a long time. When you get twenty-five years for each victim, you'll wish I had kicked your ass and I'll be smiling." Closing the door resoundingly behind her, Jane left Yuri in the same position upon her arrival, mute and alone.


	16. Wine and Dine

Wednesday, 9:10 P.M.

Frost and Korsak saw Jane's exit from the interrogation room and quickly made themselves scarce; Frost presumably needed to get ready for his shift in interrogation and Korsak made some lame half-assed excuse concerning getting coffee, even though his cup was clearly still full. Normally, she would have been annoyed at their obvious avoidance of her, but Jane was glad that they had picked up on her mood tonight. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about the case and she really didn't want to talk about her physical approach in handling Yuri Grigorvich either. She needed a distraction, something to take her focus away from everything involving this case. _I guess I can go downstairs and start a couple of rounds with the punching bag in the gym like always. _Just as she managed to reach her desk, sitting down exhaustively, her phone began vibrating a millisecond before the sound of Chopin's "Funeral March" reached her ears.

"Rizzoli," the tired brunette huffed out, dropping her heavy head to her desk, garnering a loud bang from her cluttered desk.

"Jane…um, could you come down to my office for a minute? It's kinda important, unless you're busy then-"

Jane lifted her head reluctantly, pushing her curls out of her face. "Why?"

"Um…uhh," she rolled her eyes as Maura's efforts to lie were plainly obvious, even over the crackling interference of the cell-phone line. "I…think I saw a rat in the autopsy room. It was…uh…really big and scary. Could you come by and look for it? No one else is here, I don't know who else to call, and I don't like rats. Please, Jeddy?"

Jane sighed, getting up with the same urgency as an old man. "Fine, but I'm only doing this because I love you. If I get down there and there's no rat, Maura, there's going to be a problem, a _big_ problem."

"Ohh…uh, yeah…it's uh…something alright. Love you too." The blonde hung up quickly, leaving Jane with a confused look on her face.

"Wait…what?" Jane exclaimed passionately to the elevator, groaning in frustration, not noticing the concerned look on the patrol officer's face next to her going on the up elevator. "Fuck me…I don't know what this woman is planning, but I have a feeling it involves me watching her recite the periodic table by atomic mass, discovery date, and alphabetical order, just because she can. Why did I have to fall in love with a woman who's probably a member of Mensa? I swear… If there's no rat down there, I'm going to shoot something."

*!*!*!*!*!*!*

There was no rat in the autopsy room, but Jane had no inclination to shoot something upon seeing the scene Maura had set up for the two of them in her office. The seats near her desk and the couch had been pushed near the wall; a large tartan green blanket had been set out in the remaining open space; lighted candles had been placed around the room strategically to provide both light and atmosphere; and, most importantly, the techies were sent home early. They were alone without the worry of being killed for the first time since the week started. Jane couldn't believe the amount of effort that had been put into this one special moment for the two of them, pride for her girlfriend welled up inside as tears came to the brunette's eyes. _Maura…you're such a treasure. You always know exactly what I need, even before I do sometimes._

As Jane stood in awe of the rearranged office space, Maura closed the door behind them, looking expectantly at her girlfriend's face. "Well, what do you think? I know it's not a rat but it was the only way I could get you down here without ruining the surprise."

Maura walked around Jane's still figure nervously, grabbing a small picnic basket from behind the desk and a bottle of wine from the refrigerator. Turning around, her goofy smile was infectious as she held the items up for the brunette to see them clearly. "Frost came down to tell me you caught the serial when you returned to BPD. I knew that your plans to take me to dinner tonight were going to forgotten, again, so I decided to take matters into my own hands and plan this little attempt at a picnic for the two of us. I asked Angela to make some food for us and she said no problem. And, don't worry, honey, I told her that it was because we hadn't eaten all day; I put it in a picnic basket myself. The wine, I got from my own personal stash. It's a 1996 Barolo, a very nice and heavy red that works perfectly for the pasta your mom made. So…do you like?"

Jane smiled, unable to respond and put her happiness into words. All of the various emotions from today were threatening to overwhelm her battered defenses and, oddly enough, she had no will in her to keep it within her anymore. Normally, she would have perceived crying as a weakness to hide away in a corner of her mind but not now. _I can't be scared to give Maura what she wants, access to my most intimate thoughts and desires. She won't judge me._

"Maura," she muttered weakly, the tears finally bypassing her defenses. It had been so long since she had had a proper cry; Jane wasn't sure how to react to the sensation of salty wetness entering her mouth. Her head lowered in an attempt to hide her pain, the exhausted brunette's legs nearly gave way under her before Maura managed to hold the taller woman up against her. As the blonde cradled her silently, whispering relaxing words into her ear, Jane tucked her head within the crook of Maura's neck. The tears continued to fall down her cheeks even as Maura began to slowly trace circular patterns on the brunette's heaving back.

"It's okay; let it all out, honey." Maura whispered as a muffled groan rose up from the general direction of her girlfriend's mouth. "It's just you and me. No one is going to judge you here. Take all the time you need."

Seconds upon minutes passed endlessly, the two women giving each other comfort. Finally, the tears dried up, leaving Jane feeling utterly spent, hungry for the first time in days, and at ease. Her head lifted from Maura's neck and she looked around her in confusion. "I'm sorry for…all of that. It's just been-"

Maura lifted her finger up to silence the brunette after wiping the remaining tears away. "Stop, just stop. I don't know why it is so hard for you to get through the big stubborn cranium of yours that I want you to feel comfortable enough to be whoever you need to be around me. The only way we're going to grow as a couple is to be open with each other about everything, the good and the bad."

"I know." Jane muttered, lost in the subtle green tones of her girlfriend's eyes. "But, it's hard to just…open myself up overnight. Even when I was a kid, I always kept things to myself. Being the only girl and the eldest tends to do that to you."

"Don't you dare use that as an excuse, Jane. You think I wasn't alone? I was adopted, an only child, and had to raise myself because my parents were so wrapped up in each other to notice that I existed in any other capacity besides being included in their Christmas card photos, year after year." Maura said earnestly. "Honey, I could care less why you and me are the way we are. I just need to know if you can be the woman I know that you already have within you. The woman that holds me tight when we're alone at night, makes me laugh with her dead-on impressions, takes me higher than any man I've ever been with, and always watches "Planet Earth" with me when it's on marathon. That's the woman I want, Jane. I love it when you're all serious and masculine in public, but there's no need to be that way with your lover all the time. I need you to feel comfortable enough with me to let me lead sometimes, and that means opening up to me, letting me know what's bothering you."

She nodded, genuinely agreeing with her girlfriend's plea. Maura didn't want her to change or be something drastically different, just with different priorities placed on certain aspects of her personality when they were alone. _I can do that._ "Okay, I'll try to be more girly when I'm with you and let you take care of me sometimes. But if that means I have to wear dresses and start giggling with you about the differences between banana and canary yellow, we're going to have to talk."

"No, you don't have to wear dresses, Jeddy. Your suits, baggy tees, and jeans are a part of your identity, Jane. It would be unfair of me to take that away from you," she said with a smile, a blush tinting her cheeks. "And you know how much I love stripping your suits off of you. Each time I rip your collared shirt from your body and see those lacy frills of the various bras we've bought together…it's so exhilarating and euphoric. It makes up for all of the bad Christmases I've had."

Jane rolled her eyes, tapping the blonde playfully, moving toward the wine and picnic basket on the desk. "So, let me get this straight. You get off on ripping my clothes off…huh, and I thought I was butch."

"Shut-up," Maura said with mock annoyance, taking her heels off, placing them near the door. "Besides, being butch and femme are just stereotypes portrayed to the heterosexual community in order to better assimilate lesbians into an image that is easily understood by those in the 'normal', aka those that identify as heterosexual. Did you know, according to a survey published in a sociological journal that most women range in between the extremes with their sexuality, like how most Republicans aren't all far right and Democrats aren't all far left? It was a very interesting read if you want me to email you a copy? But you won't read it, so why bother?"

Jane allowed the medical examiner to ramble on as her interest floated toward the basket of food and wine. _Looks like my mom outdid herself, again. I swear, the woman needs to find a hobby that doesn't include being up in my business. Maybe I could hook her up with Korsak…eugh, no; just the idea leaves a bad taste in my mouth._ Placing the items in her hands, Jane set them on the blanket covered floor before grabbing some wine-glasses from inside one of Maura's cupboards. "This is really nice. I really appreciate it, Maura. Really, I do."

"Thanks, we never spend any time together so I figured this was the only way to do it. Surprise you." She smiled, sitting down next to the basket, taking the plates and food out while arranging them out in the space in front of her. "May I ask you a question, Jane?"

The detective sat down in front of Maura, opening the bottle of wine, pouring the fragrant red liquid into each glass. "Of course."

"I've been thinking about us, lately. We hardly ever see each other and I really don't want an incident like what almost happened earlier today to happen again. It's not good for a professional working environment."

Jane's brown eyebrows rose in response, lifting the glass up to her nose before swirling it slightly to help it breathe like Maura taught her. "And your point is?"

Maura gathered a brief breath as Jane took a casual sip of the robust red wine. "I think we should move into together. I mean, you already spend all your time either here or at my place and your clothes are already starting to accumulate their own area in my closet. You have a drawer, Jane. I don't give a drawer to just anybody. Jo Friday loves the backyard and the pet tortoise I gave you is going to need a proper habitat to promote healthy growth in the future-"

"Honey, I love you, dearly but you're rambling. Moving in with you is a big step for us. It represents a lot of commitment from the both of us. Now, don't get me wrong, I'd love to have you available to cuddle with every night but…you need to give me more than just a second to make a decision that's based on common sense and not emotional impulse. I'm not running away like I used too, I just need some time." Jane said authoritatively, her hand extending to comfort her girlfriend. "Let's just eat, enjoy the moment, and get this case solved and then we can start talking about renting a U-Haul. We'll talk about it later, okay?"

Maura nodded as Jane began to pick excitedly at her mother's pasta. Her mind savored the food but she couldn't help feeling the beginning of unease rising again at the idea of moving in with her girlfriend. The blonde reached her hand out to hold Jane's hand lightly and, as suddenly as it arrived, the feeling of unease dissipated, replaced with an awe-inspiring sense of love. With issues resolved, Jane relaxed and gave in to the happiness of being with the woman she loved and loved her equally in return. Her job could wait for a while.


	17. Yuri's Grand Coda

Wednesday, 10:45 P.M.

Their romantic candlelit dinner finished, Jane returned back to the homicide unit, refreshed and motivated to continue onward with getting a confession from Yuri. Despite their lack of evidence, she knew there had to be something that they could use against him but Jane was at a loss to what that may be. The bodies were clean, the crimes scenes were spotless with the lack of DNA, and they couldn't look in his condo until they had probable cause to his involvement in the murders. But, they couldn't prove involvement until the techies were allowed to get in the condo. _I know that he has something in his place. The bastard is far too confident to hide anything and that confidence is going to be his downfall._

Jane's computer binged for her attention as she tried to maintain appearing to be busier than she actually was. Korsak had just started his rounds with Yuri in the interrogation room as Frost ran up to the brunette's desk with Frankie Rizzoli, Jane's brother, in tow. Their excitement was sickening to watch, even though she was immensely curious to know what all of the fuss was about.

"What's up, fellas?" Jane asked tiredly, sarcasm dripping from her words. "Let me guess, you two have successfully created a joint-custody program for the Guardian Chogie doll?"

"Action figure," Frost and Frankie shouted at the same time before their eyes narrowed at each other. Frankie, ignoring Frost, returned his focus back to his sister. "Actually, we found a body."

Jane's eyebrow rose, her hand running through her tangled mass of loose brown curls. "There are a lot of bodies in Boston, Frankie, being just a little bit more specific will go a long way."

"We found another body, a dancer, in your suspect's condo. CSU has yet to do any specific testing but the assistant coroner says that the victim's injuries match up to Maura's notes on the other three. But, more importantly, the woman is alive, Jane. When we found her, she was disoriented and bruised, but in much better shape than the other victims." Frankie said eagerly, turning to Frost.

"We've had her in our custody for the last hour and she's talking, about everything." The young African-American detective stated, grabbing his smartphone from his pocket, he began to read from the lighted screen. "Ekaterina Kursinka claims that she was asked by the suspect to have lunch at his condo today for, what she assumed, the upcoming production of "Don Quixote". He tied her to the bed and kept mumbling about someone named Matryona. When we asked her about if she had any knowledge of who Matryona was, she became over-emotional. I had to stop the interview, it was so bad. After Ekaterina calmed down, she told me that she had been in an intimate relationship with the woman nearly ten years ago."

Jane was already up and out of her seat, walking toward the interrogation room. "So how did we not notice her when we were at his condo earlier? Is she sure she saw Yuri doing all of this?"

Frost nodded his thanks to Frankie before he left, leaving the detective to go racing behind his partner. "The bedroom is situated away from the door, obscured. She was unconscious as well so she couldn't call out to us and yes, she is positive about Yuri's role in all of this."

"Please tell me this was a legal search." she commanded, looking back at Frost with bright eyes. "Or did you just 'happen' to be walking by and 'heard' a suspicious voice?"

"Legal, one-hundred percent," he said. "Lieutenant called in some favors with a judge. Apparently, the judge was going to say no to the Loo but once he mentioned your name, he lightened up and immediately agreed to sign the warrant. I think someone has an admirer…"

Jane knocked on the door leading to interrogation, announcing her presence to Korsak. "Shut-up. The last thing I need in my life is an inappropriate relationship with a man who has a law degree."

"I don't think Maura would appreciate it either." Frost mused, causing Jane's mouth to drop for a brief second in shock.

"What…did you just say?"

"I didn't mean anything by it," he said playfully, a smile crossing his lips. "It's obvious that you and Maura have gotten closer in the past couple of months and everyone knows that relationships can make a friendship strained. I don't know how many men would be happy about their girlfriend having a _candlelit dinner_ with a beautiful woman like Maura."

If she had been in this situation just a couple of days ago, Jane would have confronted her partner with a sarcastic response, but she had grown for the better. _So what if he knows, he'll figure it out soon enough when I move into her place…or maybe she should move into my place? No, that wouldn't work. Her boxes of shoes would fill the entire kitchen. Where would we eat, on the floor with the dog? Not to mention, we would have to find the bed underneath her ever increasing mountain of expensive designer collections and Bass shuts down upon the slightest change in his environment, which Maura is ever so quick to point out whenever Step-Mommy Jane has to baby-sit._

The brunette's face shifted from shock to nonchalance as her arms crossed across her chest. "Do you have something you want to say, detective?"

"Yeah, I do," he whispered with a serious face. Tension developed between the two detectives as they squared off, but, as quick as the moment had arisen, it evaporated away leaving nothing but pure joy directed toward his partner. Frost's face broke into a beaming smile. "I knew something was up when I saw the two of you all cuddled up in her office earlier after I finished my shift with Captain Silence. I'm so happy for the two of you. You're good for each other. Since you two are together…do you think you could maybe convince her to let me drive her Aston? Hell, I'll even go for just sitting in it."

A blush colored her cheeks as Korsak came out of interrogation, annoyance clearly evident on the older man's face. "Please save me from this man. He makes me feel like I'm inconveniencing him or something."

"We got him, Korsak. This guy is as guilty as sin for at least attempted murder. I'll take something over nothing. Frost will catch you up to speed while I finally collar this guy, once and for all." She walked past the detective, entering the interrogation room with handcuffs in hand. Catching Jane's scent in the air, Yuri opened his eyes, catching Jane's eyes with obvious submission.

"Came back for more, Ms. Rizzoli?" He asked before lowering his gaze toward the water filled plastic cup on the table.

"Get up," she barked, crossing the distance that separated the two of them, grabbing his arm to force the motionless man out of the seat. "Ekaterina Kursinska. You know her, right? Of course you do, she was found in your condo. The woman was unconscious, bruised, and dehydrated but alive. Looks like you didn't have a chance to finish before you were caught."

Yuri's hands played in his pants pockets with barely noticeable movement, the detective focused on nothing else but collaring the man for the murder of three women and an attempted murder of another. _I could care less on why he did what he did, which is going to be a miserable job for his defense attorney. He broke the law. That's all that matters._

"Hardly, Ms. Rizzoli. Ekaterina…I wanted to make her my _coda_ but I couldn't do it. Her eyes were like Matryona's for that brief second before I could kill her. In that moment, I saw it, the reason why my sister could manage to get her heart broken by a woman. Kindred spirits…soul-mates, whatever you Americans call it, it is idiotic of me to ignore the connection my sister had with that woman. Despite my earlier plans, I couldn't take her life, leaving the performance unfinished. For the first time since she had died, I felt a true connection to my sister. I will forever cherish those few moments. But," he muttered to himself, eyes blinded, all former intensity lost, "all of the things I did to achieve one last farewell performance to my sister shall not go to waste. Dear sister, you and I made such a beautiful Odette and Siegfried, but it is time…time for us to ascend to our true happiness together in Paradise."

Pushing away from the brunette detective with a surprising amount of force, Yuri pulled a syringe filled with a toxic brew of purple fluid as his eyes became wild with excitement. In slow motion, Jane struggled to get up from the cold cement floor and process what she should have seen coming. _Damn it, why didn't we search him more vigorously when he came in?_

"To our eternal _pas de deux_, Matryona," he exclaimed bewilderedly as the syringe of atropine was thrust into his neck, each milligram of the liquid flooding his veins. His lithe body fell quickly, eyes rolling upward before being shuttered for the last time.

Standing up, the harried brunette detective rushed toward the emergency red button, quickly pushing it before running back to Yuri's now prone, vacant frame. "Damn it, you can't die yet."

But it was far too late and Jane knew it. Endless buzzing echoed both inside and outside the small room as the emergency alert continued to ring. Paramedics charged into the space, pushing Jane back and out of the room, leaving her alone and frustrated. _We won. He confessed, the good guys won, but I hate that he committed suicide in exchange for my victory. That's no way to win, it can't be. What a hollow victory this was._


	18. Maura, Jane, Bass, and Optimism

Final A/N - Another R&I ff in the books as finito. It's so sad to see a story finish, but I have some other ideas for other ff communities that have been begging for my attention. Might come back and do a trequel to this, I have some ideas running amok concerning these two ladies. Thanks for reading (if you're still out there readers...sometimes I feel like I'm talking to myself, but since I do that anyway, I'm used to it. lol) and sticking with this mountain of a fic. Don't be afraid to check out some of my other stuff, if you have the time. :)

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Sunday, 6:35 P.M.

After the tumultuous couple of days that resulted because of Yuri Grigorvich's death, everything had settled down back to the old comfortable rhythm. Jane's celebrity status around Boston as a "hero" was reaffirmed to the public, despite her lack of involvement in bringing Yuri to justice. All she had done was watch him commit suicide, thus taking justice out of the equation. That hardly made her a hero. Jane considered herself a bystander, in all honesty, but the Lieutenant had ignored her lack of pride and insisted, along with the mayor, that she be awarded the Medal of Valor. The ceremony that resulted was bogus and completely unnecessary, however, Maura had insisted on framing the damn thing. It nearly killed her to walk by the shining gold object each time she stayed over at her girlfriend's place. In honor of her new efforts to be more open with her, Jane had told the blonde about the reasons for her dislike and, with respect to her feelings, Maura had moved the object to the study where Maura's own numerous degrees and accolades were displayed. Despite knowing how much Maura supported her, it was still hard to be open about these sorts of concerns but, with time, Jane knew it would get easier.

At the moment, Jane and Maura were in her living room watching a marathon of "Planet Earth", tolerated by the brunette because of the occasional imagery of baby animals. _I'd absolutely die if Maura knew how much I love baby leopards. Knowing her, she'd suggest we should go a safari with her father in Kenya or Swaziland._ Buttered organic popcorn in a ceramic bowl balanced precariously on the arm of the couch, the two women entangled together in blissful silence, the television program providing the only light throughout the room. Maura's head was in Jane's lap, facing the television while Jane's sat upright, munching the buttery bliss happily. For the first time since last week, they were absolutely, completely, and utterly alone with no serial killers to take away their attention from each other. Jane's hands wrote out trails of patterns on the pieces of smooth marble skin that had presented itself while Maura played like a kitten with a loose thread on the brunette's worn-in sweatpants. _Why can't every day be like this? I'd gladly be promoted to Lieutenant if I could have more time to do this but I'd probably die of boredom soon after. At least I'd die in her arms, that would be a fabulous death._

Unexpectedly, a giggle of amusement rose from her girlfriend's mouth as her hand reached behind her to grab some popcorn. "That tickles."

"I know," she smiled suggestively, "why do you think I'm doing it?"

Her eyes rolled in mock annoyance. "You know how much I love my television programs, Jane. Stop trying to make me lose focus."

"I don't know…I think it would be so much fun to make you lose focus." Jane whispered, hands continuing their zealous pattern tracing. Warning the brunette with fierce eyes, Maura released a subtle groan of excitement as her girlfriend's hands continued to move lower, lower, ever lower. Tingling radiated underneath the surface of both of the woman's skin, the television program soon forgotten, need rising to importance in their lust-addled minds. _It's been far too long…_

Maura grabbed Jane's unused arm, bringing their bodies closer, blush stained lips nearly touching. "If you keep going then you better make sure you finish the job or I'll finish it for you."

"I won't stop, unless you want me to, Maura," she muttered, barely audible. Despite that they had been together for over three months but Jane still felt an obligation to ask permission, knowing she would never be refused.

The screen over the couple cut to black as a night sequence in the show covered the room in darkness. Jane's heart raced as the loss in vision increased her sense of touch ten-fold. Nothing but the feel of Maura's lips teasing hers kept the brunette's focus on the warm, moving mass of darkness in her lap. "I've missed you so much, honey. I think we're going to have to volunteer ourselves up to science because only you can make my serotonin levels so impressively high. You make me believe that it is possible to die from pleasure even though scientifically speaking, since pleasure is just a mental construct based off of hormonal responses, it is impossible for me to actually do so."

"And only you can make me turned on with scientific terms." Jane replied back in a faint whisper, connecting their lips in a long awaited union.

With that request, the need overwhelmed their attempts to remain civilized toward each other. The passionate kiss that set fire to their entwined bodies burned everything it touched, leaving nothing but ecstasy in its wake. After taking the lead, Maura's hands clawed at the elastic keeping Jane's sweatpants and camisole on her already sweaty skin. Jane took the same approach to the blonde's own skimpy night clothes, receiving little interference on Maura's part.

A small hiss came up from the general direction of the couch, bringing a smile of satisfaction to Jane's lips. "I've never heard you make that sound before, must be doing something right."

"Hmm?" Maura asked slowly, her mind preoccupied with bringing her body closer to her girlfriend's eager hands. "What are you talking about?"

"You hissed at me."

The blonde's eyes narrowed as her hands came up to frame Jane's face. "No…I didn't hiss at you. Why would I hiss-"

Suddenly, Maura was interrupted by the same hissing sound coming from near the couch where the two women were entwined. The two women looked around bewilderingly in the dark just as "Planet Earth" switched to a bright desert scene, bringing some much needed light into the room, revealing the cause of the hissing sound. Bass's gigantic tan shell was slowly moving toward the couch, his reptilian head outside of his shell while eagerly crawling forward to his owner. With a pleased smile, Maura reached out to pet her reptilian friend's scaly head, causing Bass to nibble on her fingers.

"Aww…how is my little man? Did you miss Mommy Maura, Bass 'cause I missed you. I bet you're so scared because I didn't leave the light on for you, aren't you?" She cooed affectionately, ignoring Jane's eye-roll in response. "I thought I told you to stay in your room and no wandering around the house for the rest of the night? You know how bad your little eyes are in the dark and you know how you get scared which makes you cry. Mommy Maura hates seeing Bass in pain."

"Why do you talk to an animal with no ears, Maura? There's no point. He's not going to respond back. I'm so jealous of that turtle. He gets more love from you than I do." Jane sighed, hoping for the tortoise to leave but the animal refused to budge. To her annoyance, the brunette began seeing the predicament from the tortoise's point of view. _I guess I would be a little reluctant to move if I took ten minutes to go from the living room to the kitchen. It must be so hard to have to carry that shell around, poor thing. Wait…what does a tortoise look like without a shell, anyway?_

Maura turned back with a raised eyebrow before resuming her task of comforting Bass. "Jane, Bass is my baby and you're my honey. My love for him is totally different from our love for each other, there's no need to be jealous. If you respected him more, you would know that. Bass may not hear but he's very in tuned to the environment, Jane. He knows me on an instinctual level and he could know you on the same level, if you let him."

"The last thing I want, Maubie, is a reptile knowing me on an instinctual level. What's he going to do, walk me to the bathroom every time I have to go pee? If that's the case, I'll probably have to carry him because with his pace, I'd've peed on myself by the time we got to the bathroom." Jane leaned up from her position over Maura, staring unseeing at the television program that had now moved to animals of the various deserts of the world. "When I move in, I don't want to see your little buddy walking around underfoot at all hours. He can stroll in the day but not at night, it's weird. Jo wouldn't like it and god knows I wouldn't like it either."

"Wait…" she said, excitement obvious as Maura rose toward her girlfriend, "you're going to move in? Really? You aren't just being sarcastic?"

Jane returned Maura's shocked expression with a raised eyebrow. "Well…you put my medal in your hallway, half of my clothes are over here, I'm always using your laundry room, and…I love being here, with you, unless, you took your offer off the table? I know I took a minute to think about it but with everything that happened in the last couple of days, I've been a little preoccupied. I can understand if you don't want to live with me though. Living with a cop can be-"

An uncharacteristic squeal of excitement came from Maura's mouth as she leaped upon the brunette, interrupting her girlfriend. "Of course I want you to move in, Jeddy! We should have a move-in party. My mom can plan it. She'd be so excited to welcome you into the Isles family."

"Honey," Jane groaned out as the feel of Maura's naked flesh against hers made it incredibly difficult to focus, "how about we focus on the present because you're making it really hard to think about anything but your boobs getting on a first name basis with my boobs."

Smiling enthusiastically, Maura lightly pushed the brunette down on the couch and began to truly make Jane lose focus. Everything ceased to be of importance as the pleasure of submitting to the blonde took the place of the tension dealing with Yuri and the murdered women. Their relationship had struggled in the last couple of months but the pain that all of the turmoil caused had made them more comfortable. For the first time, Jane felt not just love for her girlfriend but the confidence to be public with her love for Maura. _I don't know what our next step will be as a couple but I'm sure we'll be able to handle it, together._


End file.
